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ghostgirl101 · 2 months

Note

I just wanna say that I am SO excited for the part 2 to your Paul Destiny fic. I have so many questions and Im excited to see if they get answered. Like if Paul is pledging his love to the reader then is the romance plot with Chani still relevant? Is the reader still the princess here? Very interesting

Imagine if Paul Atreides claimed you as his destiny: PART Ⅱ of Ⅱ

|| Word Count: 1.7K || Fluff ||

A/N: Honestly, I didn't think this would blow up so much- 1k+ likes??! Thank you all, it's sick 🙃 in answer to your questions, I didn't really specify if the reader (you) are part of a Great House or the Emperor's daughter, or maybe someone else, that's kind of up to your imagination. And yeah, sorry Chani fans, I kind of kicked her to the curb lmao; This is all about you, and so enjoy the second and final part of this destiny trope before I work on some relationship headcanons for Paul and Feyd-Rautha... Requests are open for Dune 2, so don't be shy 📩

You can't escape fate.

It's as real as the Spice that threads through the grains of sand blanketing Arrakis in heavy, warm golden waves. It twists and turns in the air, in the tides of change, something beyond understanding roping together reality and its lives to bond, whether in love or hate.

At least, with the newly ascended young Emperor, you know which side you're on. Since the day of his declaration and claiming of you as his Empress, you've never once left his sight, unknowingly or not. The boy is almost ridiculously close and observant, as if testing the depths of the events unfolding around him, testing to see whether you'll try to run from them, from him. But you can't run from fate, either.

"You aren't resting."

Paul's soft, low voice slices through the silence of the dusk, the only words you hear before you feel his warm, firm arms slipping under your arms and around your middle, pulling you into his front in a smooth, protective motion. His chocolate brown locks tickle your neck and cheek as he gazes up at you from your shoulder; wandering, curious eyes study yours knowingly, his natural hues tainted blue with the Spice.

"What troubles you?"

You hesitate in your response, unsure of the right thing to say. There's no point in lying, not to him, to a boy who could easily use the power of his Voice to make you tell him everything and anything with just a few words. He's done it to the Bene Gesserit, to those who speak out of turn and challenge him cluelessly, but never to you. And something tells you that he never will.

"I'm sorry," is how you answer instead, in a small whisper, trying to read his expression before his reaction.

But all Paul does is give you one of his soft, amused smirks, a brow raising slightly, unconvinced.

"Don't apologise to anyone for anything," he murmurs, his fingers drifting to lock with yours, his hand hot and strong in yours. "We are to be wed, you and I, soon. So what troubles you?"

"It's not you," you tell him as earnestly as you can, his eyes capturing yours and holding them as you blink up at him. "I'm just... nervous."

"Nervous?" Paul repeats gently, his hands squeezing yours for a moment, his face an inch away from yours. "What have you to be nervous about?" He grins slightly, not attempting to hide his teasing amusement. "A wedding?"

You can't help but smile at his tone, savouring the unguarded moments of the new, young Emperor, his boyish traits lingering beneath the newfound power and promises passed down to him.

You were nervous, because you weren't so familiar with destiny and its quirks, and yet, Paul Atreides seemed to be its master. Nervous, because although there was a strange pull between you and him, a deeper part of you somehow knowing him, at an instinctive ease with him, you had never met him before these past few days, and now, you were going to be joined together for time indefinite by marriage. Nervous, because he didn't just want you to rule with him, but alongside him, as a partner, a second part of him. His second half who's with him in soul, not just spirit, physically, not just mentally. And he's relishing in it.

"I've never had one before," you shake your head with a light smile, "I don't know what to expect. Or what's expected of me."

Paul hums to himself at your reply, pausing for a while as he thinks over his words.

"It isn't just a wedding," he tells you quietly, "it's so much more. This... this a beginning. A new dawn."

"Beginning?" You echo in bemusement, looking up at him in wonder. "Of what?"

"Of a new era," Paul says thoughtfully, his hands moving from yours to run over and down your sides, tracing over your figure absentmindedly, a gesture that makes you hold your breath for a beat as you watch him, "the first of many. You are more than a mere future. You're the future. My future. And the future of my people."

The sincerity and conviction in his voice makes you stare back at him in slight awe, taken by his certainty of what he's seen in the deepest stretches of his mind, the flickering images of you, adorned in all your natural beauty and grace that he could find nothing short of perfect. You were a fantasy and a hope materialised. Someone he'd wished and dreamed for so much, that you came true, just as you should have.

"Anything that happens to you," Paul continues, looking you straight in the eye as he speaks, "happens to me. You have always been mine, and I was yours before then. Absolutely and completely."

And his words make a home in your head, everything he says so poetic and beautifully surreal, but so honest and unwaveringly confident. He didn't need to practise what he said before he whispered the sweet words in your ear, in a voice only you could catch, in the long, warm nights on Arrakis. There was no need for practice. He had been made for this, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

You let yourself relax slightly in his grips, giving him an earnest smile. "That sounds nice."

Paul smiles back at you, a bright, sweet smile that makes him seem so soft and normal, almost forgetting for a moment of his utter strength and glory over the planets, his dangerous darkness that he occasionally allowed to rule over his actions at the tensest of times, until those who stood up against him retreated in bewilderment and fascination and fear.

"It does," he agrees, his gaze dropping to look out at the dunes beyond you, "you can't imagine..."

You couldn't. But every part of you wanted to. And those parts won.

"Won't you tell me?"

Paul's attention shifts back to you after you speak, before you can stop yourself.

"Would it be kind to tell you?" He asks aloud, speaking half to himself as his eyes go to search yours again, studying every inch of you, almost unsettlingly intently.

"Do you dream?" Paul questions you softly, and you dither before shaking your head.

"Not like you do," you answer steadily.

"Like I do. Seeing your face amidst the streaks of sunbeams and every kind of ethereal power that could create wonders, planets, worlds. Waking up, and you're not here, though it felt so real," he goes on, his voice laced with longing, as if it pained him to remember the feeling. "Realer than I've ever felt anything before. Every sense in me was awakened, because with destiny, I saw hope. And I did not know that hope could be so.... beautifully... angelic."

Paul draws closer and closer with each word, pulled by invisible strings to rest his forehead against yours, closing his eyes for a long moment to breathe, breathe you in. The sight of it is almost dizzyingly hypnotic, staring at the little scattered freckles over his fair, lightly tanned skin, cheeks flushed golden. He moves his face to rub his cheek against yours, seeking out affection in an irresistible rare, vulnerable move. Your hand reaches up to brush your fingers against it, and he takes it in his immediately, pressing his lips against your fingertips as he speaks.

"I need you," Paul insists, his voice firm and pressing again as he stares at you with a spark of desperation. "I need only you. More than you can comprehend. By my side, always, where you belong."

"I'm right here," you reply a little giddily, looking away from his eyes slightly bashfully from the intensity and unbridled longing of his gaze. "I suppose I'm just not used to this."

"To what?" Paul questions, his fingers tilting your chin up softly to force your eyes back up to his, his face a little closer than before. "To being an Empress?"

Before you can respond, he's pushed himself closer over you, his warm, damp lips sliding and pressing against yours and parting to encourage you to deepen his affections. It sends hot shockwaves rushing straight through your blood, as Paul crouches over you, all patience and purpose forgotten in the moment where it's just the two of you in the calm, lingering desert night.

You fit together perfectly, too perfectly for his words to be untrue, and his head tilts keenly where your fingers skim his neck, his lips parting from yours as they tangle in his hair with a short gasp. He loses none of his confidence and persistence, his azure blue eyes a shade darker as he watches you with an open trace of adoration.

"A queen?"

"Paul," you start shakily, as he smirks at you fondly, his head ducking to trace his tongue briefly up the skin of your neck, with a faint chuckle.

"To being desired?"

You glare at him weakly, hanging onto his hands tight to find some sense of grounding. "You're just playing with me."

"I intend to do so much more than that," Paul grins at you, kissing your cheek before burying his face against your shoulder. "And so should you. Test the depths of our connection. Push it to its limits. Push me. Please."

You find yourself speechless again at his way with words, simple and truthful, but full of passion and unthought romance, a sensation he's been craving since the first shadows of your being in his hazy dreams and visions.

"Give into your destiny, sweet girl," he croons to you in a whisper, his lips brushing against yours and pressing down against your skin needily, hungrily. It takes almost inhumane strength not to crumble and shiver under his touch and desire radiating off him and his dark glare, the wanting over years of dreams and prophecies building up to its peak. "Give into me."

"I think I will," you whisper back in awe and giddiness, your arms having to hold tightly around his neck to stay upright. "I think I want to."

"That's good," he praises you with a soft smile, as his voice lowers. "And besides," Paul mutters in your ear, nuzzling against your cheek breathlessly, with that subtle, teasing look in his eyes, "I plan on taking you as mine well before the wedding."

══════════════⊹⊱≼ fin ≽⊰⊹══════════════

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added to this for my future Dune fanfics): @minaxcarter @milaeth @ennycutie @weird0o0 @aoi-targaryen @jindongdongie

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niki-phoria · 2 months

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⋆｡°✩ YOU LOOK SO PRETTY / PRETTY LIKE THE SUN

sweet moments with fushiguro megumi, itadori yuuji, inumaki toge, okkotsu yuuta

notes: gn reader (no pronouns used), first jjk reaction post !! this was so hard to write ngl, header from pinterest, title from tom odell - black friday

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI is in love with you.

dusk is filled with golden rays and city lights. you walk side-by-side with megumi in a comfortable silence. these quiet moments with you had always been rare but cherished moments - a small amount of time when you both could finally breathe.

years of fighting curses had taken its toll on you. with death always just one wrong move away, megumi had grown accustomed to cherishing the little moments with you: when you made him coffee in the morning before he woke up; when you waited at his bedside after he was injured in a fight; when you forcefully put some of your food on his plate after noticing that he wasn’t eating enough.

megumi had never grown up with a view of a real romantic relationship - all of his experience came from side plots in manga and being dragged into watching movies with yuuji - but he was smart enough to realize why his heart beat so fast around you. why he blushed so easily when your hand brushed against his. why he desperately wanted more.

megumi stops when you pause in your steps, stretching out your shoulders. a content sigh escapes you as you look out towards the shore. “the sunset is beautiful, isn’t it?” you say, your eyes trained on the hues of pink and blue filling the sky.

megumi glances at the skyline, only taking in the sight momentarily before he turns back to you. all the beautiful things he’s heard about “golden hour” seem to come true. the sun peeks out from behind various buildings, illuminating your silhouette. you softly smile as you look up at the clouds above.

“yeah,” he smiles; his gaze remains trained on you. “beautiful.”

fushiguro megumi is in love with you. now, he just has to tell you.

ITADORI YUUJI is - surprisingly - not a bad cook. over his months at jujutsu high, he had become the unofficial chef in the dorms. so when you fell ill, it was no surprise when he took on the responsibility of nursing you back to health.

your body is little more than a mound of blankets when yuuji creeps into your room; a bowl of steaming soup in his hands. he moves with the utmost care as he makes his way across the room before setting the bowl down on your bedside table. despite your puffy eyes and red-tipped nose he smiles, reaching up to push a stray strand of hair away from your face.

you stir awake at his touch before slowly blinking up at him. “hi y/n,” yuuji whispers. “feeling any better?”

he receives a groan in response. “i feel like death,” you rasp out.

yuuji reaches over, resting the back of his hand against your forehead. “you’re still really warm,” he mumbles. “i don’t think your fever has gone down at all.”

his cheeks flush slightly when you reach over, taking his hand into your own. your skin is overly warm and slightly clammy, but yuuji doesn’t mind. instead, he intertwines your hands together.

“here,” he says, using his free hand to hold up a spoonful of the soup he made. “try it. maybe it’ll make you feel better.”

the metal spoon burns your tongue and the broth is a little too salty, but it soothes your throat all the same. “thank you,” you murmur. “it’s delicious.”

yuuji simply smiles brightly, holding out yet another spoonful for you. “of course.”

“do you know japanese sign language?”

INUMAKI TOGE stares at you with wide eyes, surprised by your sudden question. it shouldn’t have been all that surprising, but it was something no one had bothered to ask before.

finally, after a short period of silence, he nods. “salmon.”

toge had grown accustomed to being left out. even while around the most supportive people, he often found himself struggling to be heard - both literally and metaphorically. after all, it was difficult to communicate with others through origini ingredients.

that didn’t make it any less hurtful, though.

you smile brightly, hesitantly signing along to your words as you speak. “i’ve been practicing a little. i wanted to surprise you.”

toge’s face flushes; his jacket does little to hide the way his blush spreads across his cheeks and up to the tips of his ears. your movements are a little sloppy and you’re clearly nervous, but he doesn’t comment on it. no one had ever put in this much effort to speak to him before. to not only listen, but understand what he means.

“thank you,” he signs in return. he pauses for a second, hesitating slightly before he continues. “i love you.”

“i don’t think i know that one.” toge simply smiles, leaning in to pull you into a kiss. he’ll tell you what it means soon enough. but for now, his flushed cheeks and soft smile tell you everything he means to say.

the safest place in the world is within OKKOTSU YUUTA’S arms. you can’t remember when it became a routine for the two of you. he would return home and immediately seek you out; his fingers curl around your waist and tug you closer until your back reaches his chest.

a soft sigh escapes his lips as he rests his chin against your shoulder. the pieces of your bodies fit together like a puzzle - from the way yuuta intertwines his fingers with your own to how seamlessly his arms wrap around you.

messy strands of ink black hair brush against the side of your neck when yuuta nuzzles himself even closer against you. his breath ghosts against your shoulder as he leans down, pressing a few lazy kisses over the fabric of your shirt. “i missed you.”

“i missed you, too.” your fingertips trace along little cuts and deep bruises decorating yuuta’s hands. “do they hurt?”

he catches his bottom lip between his teeth. it feels trivial to be in pain over such minor injuries, but yuuta has never been the best liar. “only a little,” he murmurs.

you frown slightly, raising your intertwined hands up to your lips. the soft kisses you press against the fresh wounds leave him breathless. with a flushed face and a soft smile, yuuta presses a chaste kiss against your cheek in return. “thank you.”

taglist (open! send an ask/dm to be added): @sunoooism @vamxpi @sad-darksoul @kamote-kuneho

if you liked this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, check out my jjk masterlist <33

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officialdaydreamer00 · 7 days

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Aimless outing

in which you took your significant other out for a ride.

pairing: idia shroud x yuu/reader

contents: kinda short oneshot, lower case intended, this is just a spoonful of sugar tbh, everyone thank deuce for lending us his blastcycle, kinda ooc idia? idk, actually based on a screenshot in the game i'm playing and i love that lmao, reader is referred to as yuu, gender neutral reader and narrated with you/yours

★ the daydreamer speaks — my second entry for my tumblr older sibling @cloudcountry's sweet shroud summer 2024!! the worms are worming and i'm on a roll hehe ^-^

do i tag? yes, i do. my main idia liker: @edith-is-a-cat, others: @identity-theft-101 @keii-starz @xen-blank @loser-jpg @lemonchuu @dove-da-birb @twistwonderlanddevotee @escha-evenstar

remember to comment or reblog if you enjoy my work!!

"Yuu-shi, where are we going!?"

"Somewhere, anywhere! Does it really matter?"

a slow sunday and the lack of immediate tasks in your schedule was all you needed. and what better way to spend the day with your beloved than taking him out for a ride?

deuce was kind enough to lend you his blastcycle for this little trip of yours, wishing you good luck and all, and you've already gotten permission to go out from the headmage the day before, as much as you hated his gut. meanwhile, ortho was doing his best to get idia waiting outside of campus, and making sure he didn't second guess his desicions before you arrive.

and that led us to where you were now, going kilometres per hour as if gliding through the highway, feeling the cool wind of a chilly afternoon excitedly picking up your hair as the sun retreated behind the mountains. you loved the thrill it gave you, if the bright wide grin on your face was of any indications.

idia, on the other hand, was a bit overwhelmed. with his arms coiled tightly around your waist, hands trembling ever so slightly, he hid his face in your hair, not daring even a peek at the blurring surroundings.

"It's not a ride if you can't see what made it so fun in the first place, Idia! Just give it a try, then we can go back if you want."

idia stayed quiet, weighing his options. he could ask you to go back and return to the monotony of his life, safe yet nothing special. or, he could continue on this ride, just you and him on the road to an ambiguous destination.

he opened his eyes, widening as they laid on the most beautiful painting of dusk mother nature had drawn. white, pink, and orange blended together so harmoniously on a darkening blue canvas. rows of clouds lined the sky, bouncing around the little lights left of the sun onto the crashing waves the sea created.

his breath was taken away.

"Quite a sight, isn't it?"

idia could only muttered a soft 'yeah' as his eyes glued at picturesque scenery, taking in all he could for he wasn't sure he was going to see such a sight again. his tight grip on you slowly loosened, now only wrapping around your waist like a warm hug you would give him on chilly days.

the moon soon made its appearance as the canvas of nature was painted black, stars glimmering from beyond like diamonds in the sky. the two of you was making your way back to campus, with the blastcycle's headlights and idia's hair illuminating the road.

idia found the night sky was beautiful, a lot different from dusk, but he loved it all the same.

it was a fleeting sensation of a thrill so different than what his heart was used to, but it was welcoming, a comfort even. especially when you were there with him, laughing without a care and genuinely living in the moment.

it was a memory he wished to never forget.

#sweet shroud summer 2024 #irene's writings ♡#twst #twisted wonderland #twst fic #twst fluff #idia shroud #twst idia #twisted wonderland idia #idia shroud x reader #idia x reader #twst idia x reader #idia shroud x yuu #idia x yuu #idia x mc #idia shroud fluff #this only took me 2 hours + a tea break lmao

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luveline · 9 months

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if you’re not sick of the fainting fics yet would you write one with sirius? have a good day gorgeous <3

thank you for your request! i hope you have a good day too ♡ fem!reader

"Hey, sweet girl," Sirius says. A saccharine pet name said rather simply, smoke blown from either corner of his mouth. "You okay?"

You shrug your shoulders. Sirius sits in the shade, the dusk sunlight kissing the rubber toes of his shoes where he's laid his legs out over the steps into the house. "Did James finish my juice?"

Sirius scratches his eyebrow, weary not to burn himself with the cigarette held between his index and middle finger. Smoky whorls chase up the side of his face. "Uh, no, but Remus' boyfriend might have thinking it was his. Remus said he'll buy you two to replace it."

"I don't mind. Just. Think I might need the sugar."

Sirius squints at you, stubbing his cigarette out hurriedly against the stone steps and standing up. He's in sweats and one of your old t-shirts, blue hair dye staining up the left side like a superheated flame. "You still not feeling well?" he asks.

You offer your hand for holding. Sirius takes it, using the other to angle your face up toward the porch light.

"Say?" he murmurs, prompting you when you don't answer.

"I feel wobbly, Siri. Like I could faint. I know I won't, but I still feel rough," you say.

Sirius looks about as alarmed as a person can get, pulling you up the steps to the house he shares with his mates and down the hallway. "Not having that," he says as he goes, rubbing your cold fingers. "Don't worry. You'll feel better after some dinner. Let me make you a quick crumpet or something. Piece of toast?"

"I can wait until later on."

He drops your hand in favour of cupping your cheek. "No. Try and have something, my love. I have a bit of soreen here," —he turns away from you to rummage through the bread cupboard— "thick layer of butter and you'll be right."

You blink against a strange feeling, but it isn't something you can shuck off. A weight gathers in your hands and your knees go weak, and you think, Oh, I'm actually going to faint.

You manage to put your hands behind you and crumple that way, onto your bum rather than forward into Sirius' back. Your head clips a cupboard door and Sirius spins on the spot, soreen falling in a hurricane of crumbs by your leg.

"Fuck," he says, on his knees in an instant. You slouch unbidden, and you don't recall passing out, but one moment you're unfurling like a pill bug and the next you've been pulled flat onto your back. Sirius looks down at you in a panic. "Woah, hello. Don't do that again, yeah?"

"I don't think she really had a choice, mate."

You squint across the kitchen at James, one of Sirius' best friends and roommates. He approaches with a pillow from the lounge, dropping it by your head. "Get your head on that, babe," he says.

Sirius lifts your head onto the pillow, scowling. "Fucking christ. You need to keep me informed when you're about to go sledding across the kitchen, my love," he says. "We could've sat down. Had a breather."

"I didn't really know," you mumble. "My legs hurt."

"You're supposed to elevate them," James says. "Get your blood flowing more to your brain."

"Lift her legs then, James."

"She's your bird."

"I'm busy," Sirius says crossly, his hands tucked up by your neck. He turns away from James to give you his full attention, his incredulousness melding to a soft, sad worry. "What's the matter with you? I could've caught you if you'd said." He turns your face from the side. "Just take it easy for a bit, yeah? Do you feel tired?"

James sighs and grabs your legs to hoist in the air. You're too lethargic to fluster, though you gasp when your back starts to lift from the floor.

"James, you prick, don't deadlift her," Sirius scolds. His tone switches as soon as he meets your eyes. "You're alright," he says, thumbing along your jaw. "You'll be fine."

"This is too much fuss," you say breathlessly.

Sirius takes a deep, heaving breath. "Feel my heart," he says, holding your hand to his chest. "Feel that? You scared the fuck out of me. This is the correct amount of fuss."

He and James keep you there until Remus comes home with a two litre carton of orange juice to save you. "I think half an hour will do it," Remus says, all the tone of an eye roll without the action. "Get the poor girl off the floor. She has crumbs in her hair."

Sirius arranges you on the sofa, though really you're in his lap, James absconded for a rescue takeaway and Remus hoovering up the exploded soreen from the sounds of it. "Good thing you're poorly," Sirius says, smoothing your hair back to kiss your cheek. "I hate hoovering."

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius x reader fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #marauders era #marauders #sirius black drabble #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #the marauders #sirius orion black

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tojisun · 4 months

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https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8tQfwXt/

this with biker!simon 🤭 the way he just melts omg

OH MY GOD I YELLED

nono fr omg the way he melted as soon as he heard it and the way he literally looks like hes about to lose his mind on the highway??? SCREAMING

!! suggestive - minors dni; sexting ig // biker!simon mlist

thinking about how this isn’t really something you’d usually send—you’re so used to his friends snooping on his phone so of course you two have to be careful. discreet.

but.

it’s been a while since you two have done anything more than rushed make out kisses. even the last time you two tried to squeeze a quickie, it was still, somehow, interrupted by your conflicting schedules.

you’ve tried to hold onto your patience. tried holding back even when all you wanted to do was jump simon because there he always is, beautiful and hot and just overall so goddamn attractive, it should be illegal to be that good looking.

but it’s been a while now. and you’ve missed him dearly.

it didn’t help that his last meet was all over social media, getting mixed into edits because of fucking course he is a tiktok edit now. you really can’t blame anyone—you were there, after all.

you’ve seen, first hand, the way he unveiled his new shop project before pairing up with that guy who you all still call konig. god knows what his name is but honestly you’re not even curious anymore. not when simon stole the goddamn show. again.

then the asshole had the audacity to point at you, black leather gloves stark against all the flashing cameras, and you watched as he made a little fucking heart with his hands. if the cameras weren’t going ham on simon then, they sure were after that little flirty stunt.

you felt yourself be engulfed in flames so, yeah. you really can’t blame anyone for sharing every pictures and videos they have of simon that day all over the internet.

still, somehow, you want to monopolize him. possess him.

and, if you’re not blaming anyone for sharing every sliver of simon’s meet, well, you hope no one can also blame you for what you’re about to do.

simon grunts as he finishes rounding a corner and begins easing into the highway. he rights himself up and blazes past the straggling sedans to get into the thick stretch of the road.

it’s not too windy today but dusk is breaking out and simon’s just glad he’s finally en route to your place. it’s been a long day and gods he’s missed you.

he gets the notification a few minutes in.

“hey, baby,” your message starts. “i missed you.” there’s a pause. “i’m wearing that lingerie you’ve always liked, you know the blue little thing? i forgot how lace feels since it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

simon’s breath is suspended in the pathway through his lungs, his eyes going wide as your words draw on. not even siri’s robotic voice can shake away simon’s thoughts—the vivid imagination of coming home to see you in that lace bralette and panties and—he grips the hand clutch tighter—the matching lace choker it came with.

fuck-

“might start without you, lover boy. so drive home—to me—safe, okay? see you soon, baby. love you.”

fuuuck.

simon books it home.

AAAAHHHH SCREAMINNN no bc this is me w simon!!

#anon #biker!simon #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #female reader #ask #suns

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dancingbirdie · 7 months

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This request is really out of the blue but, i need I CRAVE i require a fic where tav and astarion finally find a cure for his vampirism (in dnd5 it can actually happen yay!) and he manages to see his reflection again and finally have his natural eye color again (blue bc he's prob a moon elf but I don't mind other colors too). The fangs can stay or not, idc, i just want my boy happy, in love, and cared for. Bonus points if there's cuddles too

OK first of all, thanks for this prompt!! Second, I had to break this up into two parts because I'm afraid of how unwieldy it would get otherwise. So see part 1 below. I'm actively writing part 2 and should have that posted within the next few days. Hope you enjoy!

UPDATE: Chapter 2 available here!

I Promised You (Chapter 1)

Rating: G

Pairing: Astarion x GN!reader

Word Count: 3.1K

Warnings/Tags: mentions of unconsciousness, cheeky banter, domestic life, post-events of BG3, potentially problematic levels of self-sacrifice by reader.

***

“All right. I think you’re ready,” Gale affirmed as he peered over your shoulder, analyzing your hand movements as you practiced the incantation.

“You think? Shouldn’t we wait until you’re sure?” you replied, heavy skepticism coloring your tone.

“I can’t give you my complete assurance because you haven’t actually cast the spell,” the wizard sighed.

The two of you had had this argument many times over the past several months as you studied and practiced. And studied and practiced some more. The conclusion was always the same, but your anxiety always managed to convince you that a different outcome would be had if you just asked him again.

Conjuration magic was one of the most difficult forms to master. Yes, you had specialized in it during your formative years, under the tutelage of several learned wizards across Faerûn, but this spell was perhaps the pinnacle of feats in conjuration. Only a handful of wizards could perform it. Thankfully Gale was among that number, which is why you had come to him for help.

“As I’ve said, this isn’t a spell you can just cast for practice runs,” he continued. “You have one chance. And if it works, the sheer power of it is undoubtedly going to knock you unconscious.”

“I know, I know,” you grumbled. “I just… I need to be absolutely perfect. I have to do this. For him.”

“Have you told him what you’re planning yet?” Gale prodded.

“No. Not yet. I didn’t want to get his hopes up. Or have him tell me how unlikely success will be. Not until I was absolutely sure I could do this.”

“I see,” the wizard returned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Well, tonight is as good a time to tell him as any. There’s nothing more I can teach you to prepare for this. You know the incantation by heart. You perform the gestures almost through muscle memory now. You’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” you repeated, as if saying the words would will it to be so.

“Send me a missive if he wants to go through with this. I’ll come to the cottage and oversee the spell’s casting.”

“All right,” you nodded.

“It’s going to work. You have to believe it’s going to work,” Gale encouraged, meeting your eyes with a serious, stern sort of expression.

“It’s going to work,” you agreed. “It’s going to work.”

***

It was dusk by the time you returned to the cottage. It was a modest home you shared with Astarion, situated just outside the city walls. It had a lovely view of the rolling hills that surrounded Baldur’s Gate, and proximity to the Chionthar River gave the air a refreshing, misty feel. Pastoral communities dotted the countryside with sheep and cattle grazing freely during the day, though they had returned to their stables long before your return.

Astarion was no fan of the bucolic lifestyle, as he was wont to remind you. But you both agreed that this living situation afforded him better meal prospects than the rats, cats and errant stray dogs that dwelled within the city limits. At least this way, he had more fulfilling options for food, since the livestock attracted their fair share of large predators. A mild, perpetual confusion charm that you cast kept the neighbors from questioning why – unlike their peers in neighboring villages and towns – their animals were never plagued by roving bears and panthers.

Astarion was lounging listlessly in the bay window of the den when you entered your home, one leg dangling off the ledge of his reading nook while he carelessly flipped through a book. Probably one he had pilfered from Gale’s stockpile a few weeks ago, you surmised. There had been an uptick in the wizard’s grumbling about discrepancies in his library catalog of late.

“Anything interesting?” you asked as you shrugged out of your traveler’s cloak and hung it on the coat rack by the door.

“Ugh, hardly,” Astarion grouched. “Nothing but debunked theories and philosophies from bloated scholars who died a hundred years ago.”

“You’re going to have to return Gale’s books to him eventually, you know. He’s beginning to realize how many from his library are missing.”

“Haven’t the slightest clue what you’re referring to, darling,” he replied breezily.

“Of course, love,” you chuckled, planting a kiss on his forehead as you passed him by to make your way into the kitchen.

“Care for a glass of wine?” you called.

“Mm, yes,” Astarion returned. “Red, please, dear.”

Uncorking the bottle and pouring the glasses gave you a brief moment to collect your thoughts. To steel your nerves for the conversation looming before you. Drawing a deep breath in and exhaling it slowly, you made your way back into the den and braced for the inevitable.

“Darling, do you have a moment?” you asked as you offered Astarion his glass before taking a seat next to him. “I’d like to talk to you about something.”

“Gods, it must be serious,” he teased, straightening from his reclined pose to take the proffered glass and make room for you. “You like you’re about to be ill. Go on then, love, before you faint and spill this vintage all over the floor.”

“It is rather serious, in fact,” you began, clearing your throat that had suddenly become tight with nerves. “I’ve waited to tell you until now, but I’ve been researching some more difficult conjuration magic with Gale the past few months…”

“Oh?” Astarion prompted as you paused. “For what purpose, darling? I thought you had already mastered the school of conjuration.”

“I have. But this is a more specialized form. More… niche, I guess one might say. And, well…” you trailed off again, hesitant.

“Go on,” he encouraged.

“I’ve-been-researching-a-spell-that-cures-vampirism-and-I-think-I’ve-found-a-way,” you spat out all at once, the words tumbling into each other like a wagon train gone wild.

Astarion met your eyes with a blank stare, seemingly forgetting that his one hand had been in the process of lifting the wine glass to his lips.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked hoarsely.

You coughed to clear your throat. “What I mean to say is: I’ve been working with Gale for months now to learn a spell that can cure your vampirism. He and I believe I’m ready to perform it. If you would allow me to try, that is.”

“If this is your idea of a joke,” he murmured, a slight quiver in his voice. “Then I have to tell you, it’s absolutely not funny at all.”

“It’s not a joke!” you assured. “I swear to you, Astarion. It’s not a joke,” you continued, squeezing one of his hands in yours.

He nodded absently, his gaze trained on your thumb as it soothed over the knuckles of his fingers.

“H-how?” he whispered finally. “How can you cure it? I’ve read every tome I could get my hands on for over two hundred years. Nothing, nothing, I’ve read has ever offered a solution.”

“Because this is a highly guarded spell. It’s only passed down through oral tradition among wizards who specialize in conjuration magic. Which is why I’ve needed Gale’s help,” you explained. “I broached the topic with him some time ago, told him how we were going to look for some way to cure your vampirism. Being a master of magicks himself, I thought he would be a good source of information for me to begin my research. I wasn’t even aware of the spell until he shared it with me. He’s been teaching me the mechanics of it since then. It’s been a difficult spell to master but–”

“What’s the cost?” Astarion interjected suddenly, meeting your gaze with a new intensity.

“It will cost you nothing, obviously,” you retorted, disliking where the conversation was heading.

Astarion huffed through his nose. A caustic, frustrated sort of sound. “Don’t play cute with me, darling. You know what I mean.”

“No. I don’t,” you hedged.

“What will the spell cost you,” he bit out through a clenched jaw.

You bit your lip, hesitant to reply. Astarion’s gaze never wavered.

Finally you sighed. Better to reveal the consequences of it all than attempt to hide the downsides from him. Even though they were negligible in your eyes, compared to the wonder that would be returning his elfhood to him, you knew he would resent being told only partial truths. You couldn’t fault him for it. You would feel the same, were the roles reversed.

“It will permanently weaken me. There’s a small, very small, chance it could kill me if I perform it wrong,” you confessed.

“No,” Astarion responded bluntly, without a hint of hesitation. He rose from the bench and made to leave the room. As if the matter had been settled and it was time to crack on.

“Wait! What do you mean, ‘no’?” you blurted. Jumping to your feet, you snatched at the sleeve of his nightshirt.

He turned to peer at you with a haughty gaze, one eyebrow arched delicately. “Exactly that. No. You’re not risking your life on the off chance of this working.”

“But it’s not an off chance. It will work! And the likelihood of me dying is incredibly slim!” you protested.

“But the likelihood of you being ‘permanently weakened’ is essentially certain, yes?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as it sounds. And besides, I don’t mind. I want to do this, Astarion.”

He scoffed. “Have you gone absolutely mad? ‘It’s not as bad as it sounds.’ Do you even know what will actually happen to you afterwards?” he shot back angrily.

“No,” you admitted, a bit quieter.

He deliberately widened his eyes at your response, crossing his arms across his chest as if to say See? My point proven.

“But I know I can handle it! And I love you enough to try!” you retorted.

That appeared to be the wrong choice of words. You realized it immediately as his expression morphed from outright anger to something darker, icier.

“Well then, it seems we’re at an impasse, darling,” he growled. “Because I love you enough not to have you go through with this.”

You opened your mouth to object once more, but he continued, ignoring you.

“AND, since it is my body and my life we’re discussing, it means I have the final say on the matter. My answer is no.”

You had anticipated this conversation going many different ways. You thought you had prepared for the most likely scenarios. But, in all your pondering, you hadn’t seriously considered the possibility that Astarion would reject this opportunity outright.

Your eyes welled with tears. Hot, angry, disconsolate tears.

“Astarion,” you murmured, desperate. Angry though you both were, you couldn’t resist the urge to curl into his embrace. Gently, you pulled at his arms in an attempt to un-cross them. With a soft sigh, he allowed you to manipulate him so that you were pressed chest to chest. Your arms banded around his waist, locking him against you. Slowly, he raised his arms to mimic your stance, peering down at you.

“Astarion, my darling, this is your chance. It’s the only chance we’ve found in over two years of searching. I know I can do it. And you can win it all back. I can help you. Let me do this,” you pleaded.

“Darling, how could I ever ‘win it all back’ when there’s a possibility I could lose you forever? Or that you could be seriously harmed in the process?” he lifted a hand to cup your cheek, smiling sadly. “I would never forgive myself if you were harmed in an attempt to cure me.”

You closed your eyes, tears slipping freely down your cheeks. “Please. I know I can do this. Please let me do this. I want to do this for you.”

“Come, pup, no more tears. I’ve given you my answer,” he murmured, swiping a thumb across your cheekbones to catch each tear.

You opened your eyes to glare at him. “If the roles were reversed, would you want to try this for me?”

“Of course,” Astarion huffed. “But that’s obviously different, I –”

“WHY? Why is it different?” you cried, clutching him.

“Because you’re worth it!” he implored, arms vibrating as though he were resisting the urge to shake sense into you. “Your soul is worth a thousand of mine! It’s not marred by death and torture and sacrilege. Can’t you see that? Don’t you see?”

“No, I don’t,” you argued obstinately. “Because you are worth it to me. Your soul is priceless to me. I love you. You’re the love of my life.”

Astarion said nothing, just stared at you with sad eyes. You couldn’t tell if his silence meant you were persuading him, but you couldn’t relent without giving at least one more desperate plea.

“I promised you. Remember? After everything that happened, I promised you we would find a way for you to walk in the sun once more. I didn’t make that promise lightly. I want to do this for you.”

“Darling…” he murmured sadly, shaking his head.

“Astarion, please,” you beseeched, shifting to clutch his face between both of your palms. “I’m literally begging you to let me try. Gale and I have been practicing for almost a year now. He wouldn’t tell me I was ready unless he was certain. I know I can do this. Please. Let me try.”

“Don’t you have any regard for your own life?” he whispered. “How is it that I’m more concerned for your well being than you are?”

“Darling, all of us have the slightest potential of dying every single day we continue to breathe. Anything poses some risk to our lives. I’m telling you, the risk of me dying from this is the same as the risk I take casting any other magic.”

“But there’s still a permanent cost to doing this. Have you even asked Gale to elaborate on what that entails?”

“No,” you admitted a bit sheepishly. “I didn’t really think about it.”

Astarion rolled his eyes but planted a kiss against your forehead. “You’re ridiculous, you know.”

“I’m sorry that I was so ecstatic about finding a cure that I leapt straight into studying it!” you said defensively, although your tone lacked teeth.

He chuckled and wrapped you in a tighter embrace, resting his cheek on the top of your head. The two of you stood like that for some time, arms wrapped around each other, lost in thought.

After a while, Astarion cleared his throat. “I want us to speak to Gale. I want to know the full details, the consequences of a spell like this.”

You jerked your head up in surprise, staring at him with wide, elated eyes.

“I’m not saying yes,” he clarified, attempting to tamp down your burgeoning excitement. “But I’m willing to hear more about this… possibility.”

A delighted squeal rocketed up your throat. Quick as a flash, you jumped to wrap your legs around his waist. Long used to your ebullient antics, Astarion caught you with a practiced ease. His arms banded under your thighs and across your lower back, squeezing gently.

“I love you, you daft, feral thing,” he chuckled, nuzzling your cheek.

***

“I would have gone over this months ago, had you afforded me the opportunity,” Gale had groused upon arriving at the cottage the following evening. The three of you shared a bottle of barrel-aged Callidyren while Astarion peppered the wizard with umpteen questions about the spell’s mechanics. To his credit, Gale managed to assuage Astarion’s concerns. At least for the most part.

The permanent effects of casting the spell, you both learned, would diminish your inner well of magic, rendering you unable to cast as many spells as you currently could before resting for a longer period of time. Almost as though the cost of performing the spell would revert you back to the strength you had had as an apprentice so many years ago. You would still be powerful, capable of wielding even the most intricate of spells. But your endurance would be shorter, more concentrated. It was a price you were more than willing to pay. Even more so now that you had actually allowed Gale to describe the effects in detail.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t press for more details,” Astarion grumbled.

“It didn’t seem important at the time,” you sniffed, waving a hand dismissively. “Still doesn’t, in my opinion.”

“You know, in some schools of thought,” Astarion countered dryly, “people believe the difference between bravery and complete idiocy is so fine a line that it frequently gets crossed.”

“So I’ve heard,” you crooned. “But, alas, I’m nothing if not an incredibly adept fool in love.”

Gale observed the two of you warily, as if uncertain whether this exchange constituted harmless domestic banter or an undercurrent of severe agitation.

“Yes, well,” he interrupted awkwardly, “as I said before, you’re as ready as you will ever be to perform this magic. I’ll be here to supervise and intervene, if necessary, though I don’t think it will be.”

“Bully for us. Is there anything else we should be prepared for, if we’re to go through with this?” Astarion snapped. “Sudden onset sliminess? Gills? Frothing at the mouth?”

You winced. He was always his most discourteous self when he was afraid. Gale might not realize it, but you knew him well enough to tell when his rudeness was obfuscation.

“Ahem,” Gale coughed, clearly affronted by the impertinent question. “No, nothing of that sort. But this spell is incredibly demanding on one’s body. It’s very likely they’ll fall unconscious once it’s been cast. The effect shouldn’t last for more than a few hours. Enough time for a proper rest.”

“You failed to mention that yesterday,” Astarion said peevishly, glaring at you from across the dining table.

“Because it’s the equivalent to me needing a good sleep after a tiring day,” you quipped.

Gale winced. “It’s a bit more serious than that, I’d argue.”

“Thank you,” Astarion intoned.

“Tsk. An inconvenience at worst. Nothing unmanageable,” you retorted. “So, what say you, darling? Are you willing to give this a try?”

Astarion’s glare shifted between you and Gale, studying you both.

“And you both swear to me that all information is now disclosed, yes? No partial truths, no hidden side effects?”

“I swear,” the two of you responded in unison. You reached for Astarion’s hand across the table.

“My darling, this will work. I’m going to be fine. And you’re going to be cured,” you smiled gently. “Please, trust me.”

He squeezed your hand, crimson eyes boring into your own.

Finally, after a moment, he gave you a terse nod.

“All right. Let’s try,” he agreed.

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devilander · 3 days

Text

in teaching you will learn (chapter 1)

18+ 3k. homelander x tutor f!reader. employer and employee sexual tension. abuse of power. fingering. AO3 link.

You accepted a job proposal to work as a History tutor to Homelander's son. It suddenly turns out to be more than you had bargained for.

prompt sent by @plasticfangtastic, thank you so much! beta'ed by @flaggermuser, love you!

Ryan was a very smart child. Powerful and smart, naturally, as any of Homelander’s offspring would be. So, to sate his endless curiosity, tutors—from the best universities, Homelander would settle for nothing else—of all subjects were hired to teach whatever was needed, whatever Ryan liked.

You had never imagined yourself in this position, History tutor to the Homelander’s son. But when you received Vought’s call, and they told you the paycheck that’d come with it, you immediately agreed. A non-supe, you wondered what it’d be like to deal with such a special kid, if Homelander would disapprove of your ways and send you packing on the first day.

Insecurities were never your thing—you had received a M.A in History and Literature, for god’s sake! This was your turf.

But… teaching a child? Whenever you would envision your future, you always imagined yourself as a professor, strict and serious, dealing solely with adults or, at most, young adults.

You'd rise up, though, you knew it—even if you needed to spend all of your nights, from dusk ‘till dawn, watching videos on gentle parenting, endless courses on “childhood education” and teaching young learners. You would do it, and you would do it perfectly.

On your first day, you had a whole speech prepared, something about how much of an honor it was, how excited you were, how many ideas you already had; your stomach fluttered as you looked at his clear blue eyes, beautiful nose—

Homelander barely let you start.

“Now.” He raised his hands, effectively shutting you up. “Enough with the yada yada, ‘kay? Let's get some things straight—all of your ideas gatta be approved by me first. And Ryan.”

“I'm sure, sir, I only meant—”

“And you'll not be berating him, for whatever fucking reason. You're not the boss here. I am. And, well, if he complains about anything, anything really, you’ll be… dismissed. That understood?” He had a congenial smile on his face, though you swore his eyes shined red, if only for a second. “Take care of my son, huh?”

He patted you on the shoulder and left. You just stood there, fuming and exasperated. If there's one thing you hated with a passion was condescending men; interrupting and disregarding your words as inane silliness.

High and mighty as he was, Homelander was cut from the same cloth as them, it seemed. If it weren’t for your student debt piling up, you’d turn around and leave. As it were, you gritted your teeth and stayed.

After that, though, you hardly ever saw him, and when you did, he only gave you an indiscernible look and a nod.

Fine by me, you thought bitterly, mad at yourself that he'd surely noticed your flushed cheeks and quickened breath at your first real sight of him.

Ryan was sweet though. Sharp and eager to learn whatever you presented him with, such that you moved on quickly from fifth, sixth, to a seventh-grade curriculum.

You found a happy medium—keeping it fun and educational. And you knew, you knew, whenever you were there, Homelander was watching you.

And he was. Of course he was. He’d had his fair share of tutors Vogelbaum would present him with. Condescending little assholes, always thinking they knew better, reporting every minor thing he did, lecturing and punishing at their pleasure.

As if he'd let his kid suffer the same fate.

Education was, however, important, so he hired simpering tutors—a school would not do, no place was fit for Ryan—and those who didn't know their place were quickly taken care of.

Yet you, the third History teacher hired (the first one was such a fucking mess—snapping his neck as soon as he left Vought was not enough for having the gall to rudely reprimand his son) were doing well so far.

Oh, he had seen how you blushed and stuttered when you two met, and he had seen how you gradually steeled your eyes at his words.

He had also noticed the sway of your hips, your pink, heart shaped mouth, the addictive sound of your voice—your scrunched up nose as you looked at him in poorly disguised anger.

So, yes, of course, of course he was watching, for more reasons than one.

One day, when you and Ryan were talking animatedly about the creation of the American Constitution, Homelander decided to barge in, almost knocking the door off of its hinges.

You nearly fell off your seat in surprise, for a second scared and worried, until you saw his face. He looked as happy as a kid. Well, happier than Ryan.

“Wowza,” he said. “What party do you two have goin’ on here? I could hear you from the hallway.”

He could hear no matter how loud you were, but you got the gist. Smiling, though miffed at the interruption, you crossed the room, and he met you halfway.

“I was showing Ryan this book. Look.” He leaned down, his face touching yours. Oh God, oh God, wrong move. “It contains all of Thomas Paine's pamphlets published during the war in its original format. We were discussing how Paine's thoughts impacted on the Constitution’s writing.”

“Very nice,” he said, still so close to you the pure heat his body radiated engulfed your senses. And your body kept betraying, and betraying, and fucking betraying you.

“Oh, I love this part.” You thanked the heavens your voice didn't quiver, and started to read out loud. “Tyranny, like hell—”

“Is not easily conquered.” Homelander completed, and you looked up, only to find him already looking at you.

His hand then rested on your arm, lingering for a few seconds too long, his eyes locking you in place. You gulped, heart thumping in your chest—

“Dad,” Ryan bemoaned. Homelander dropped his hand instantly. “This is my class. You're interrupting us!”

Homelander frowned, then almost pouted.

“Geez, buddy, what a way to treat your old man.” He crossed his arms; you contained a giggle. His eyes glinted mischievously as he turned to you. “Can I be your student for the day? I promise to behave.”

“I don't see why n—”

“No,” Ryan exclaimed, interrupting you. “No, no and no!”

Though he tried, there was no convincing Ryan. He wouldn't share the time he had with you. Inwardly, you smiled at the kid’s innocent jealousy; and thanked the heavens for the save, you certainly needed it.

Huffing and stomping his feet, Homelander left the room, but not without giving his son an annoyed glare and you a look you couldn't—wouldn't—name yet. Maybe ever.

Weeks passed, classes going smoothly despite your warring thoughts. You were attracted to Homelander, because of course you were; lucky you. Your boss, supe, leader of the Seven. The man who had so far threatened you, talked with you, touched you…

Fear tinged with desire, confusion with curiosity. He was equal parts charming and infuriating. Would you dare to willingly put your hand in the mouth of the tiger?

It became routine for Homelander to participate—or interrupt—your lessons to share his own opinions, much to Ryan's chagrin. And you… you were endeared.

“Think you could've done a better job than Theodore Roosevelt? Really?” Your disbelieving tone didn't seem to put him off, just the opposite.

“I'm certain I could.”

His playful smile and arrogant tone annoyed you. Enchanted you.

“Well, you should try for president, then,” you joked, catching yourself turning fully towards him. “You'll beat the records of votes and rule this grand nation!”

He hummed, winking at you. “Yeah, no. Not really in my… interests right now.”

“Would you make a Shermanesque statement on that?”

Homelander laughed, shaking his head.

“Nah, maybe I’ll change my mind.” His eyes roamed over your body. “Couldn’t have that.”

“What’s Sherman—Shermesque,” Ryan piped in, furrowing his brows as he stumbled over the word. “What are you talking about?”

“If nominated, I will not run; If elected, I will not serve,” you spoke at the same time and giggled, giggled!, together. Stop giggling like a schoolgirl, you chastised yourself, but you couldn't help it. There was such a thrill about flirting with danger in the flesh.

Turning to Ryan, you explained. “It’s something William Sherman said. He was a popular general during the Civil War and was being considered as the Republican candidate during presidential elections. He, however, refused!” When excited, your arms had a mind of their own, and you found yourself gesturing wildly, enthusiastically. “His words became really popular from then on, such that it's now called a Shermanesque statement, and sometimes used by politicians and the like.”

Homelander couldn’t help but stare while you talked, entranced by your passionate speech, flushed cheeks and shining eyes. You were so fucking cute, deliciously captivating—even in your pitiful stubborn act, or all the more enticing because of it. He wanted to savor each and every moment you walked about the room; wanted to catalog your breath changes, the rises of your voice, your moving lips.

Would you be just as responsive in another, more interesting scenario?, he wondered. Maybe you would want to take charge, bossy little thing you are. Maybe he’d have to bend you just shy of breaking you only to see you beg—beg him to fuck you, to let you come on his fingers, mouth and cock.

His filthy thoughts raged on, only interrupted when you announced your time was up. Ryan groans in disappointment and Homelander has a hard time not doing the same. He hungers for more moments with you. Alone.

“C’mon, kiddo,” he says, noticing Ryan stalling to tidy up his books and supplies as he liked to do. “You gotta get ready for your shooting today.”

Ryan grumbles under his breath. “I hate these commercials.”

Before he can answer, you approach, tousling Ryan’s hair and leaning down to look him in the eyes.

“Hey, sweetheart, it will be okay. Just play pretend like we talked,” you said. “And if it gets too much, I'm sure your dad will take care of it. I'll bring you a treat tomorrow, how about that?”

He should probably put you in your place for daring to presume you know shit about him and his son—as if your puny mind could understand the greater beings they were. And yet, and yet… Ryan was smiling, rushing to embrace you though his quick heartbeat betrayed how nervous he was. You hugged him back, and looked at Homelander with such sweet grin that he—fuck, he felt fucking breathless.

He wanted to kiss you.

When Ryan left the room, you snatched your purse, seemingly wanting to leave as quickly as possible. But Homelander stood in front of the door, unmoving, his jewel-toned eyes intensely fixated on you.

A sudden heat spread through your body, and you let out a breathy sigh. And he noticed; eyes tracking over your face and chest, like undressing you with his mind.

Perhaps he was. He certainly could. The thought made you desperate, you needed to run. Your apartament wouldn't be enough, maybe you should catch a bus to Jersey. Or a fucking plane to—Russia, or farther—

“Want me to give you a ride?” You were so distracted you barely heard his words, much less the double entendre.

“What?”

He snickered. “I said—”

“No! I mean yes. I mean no!” You shook your head, dizzy. “No, sir, I wouldn't want to trouble you.”

“Ah but there's no trouble at all, it'll take a minute. I know where you live.”

“You do?” A shudder ran through you.

“Of course, you silly goose. It's in your resume.” He tapped your nose, a gesture so off-putting you snorted, suddenly aware he'd closed the distance without you noticing. “Let's go, little miss mouthy. Don't make me insist,” he declared, voice still cheerful, but you caught the edge of it, leaving no room for argument.

“Okay, okay… But only this time!”

Homelander simply laughed.

Reaching the balcony, you looked down and froze. Too high, too high!, your brain screamed at you.

“Hehe, on second thought…” You looked at him pleadingly, a weird laugh bubbling out in sheer nervousness. You gripped the banister as if your very life depended on it.

“Ah, ah. No takesies backsies.” He wiggled his finger in your face, and, for a single moment, two, three seconds?, caressed your cheek softly.

Before you could react, he grabbed you by the waist and took off. Panic stricken, you hid your face in his neck, dangling legs instinctively circling his hips; much like a koala, you held on to him in all ways you could—even your fingers found locks of his hair to grip mercilessly.

Through the rush of the wind, you felt, more than heard, his laugh.

It took some seconds to catch on to the overwhelming closeness between you two—how every inch of your body was adhering to his, how you could feel the impressive strength emanating from him, how his warm breath was hitting your neck, leaving shivers in its wake.

You could feel it all. No matter the padded suit, you felt the tension in his muscles, the upheaval in his chest as he drew you even closer and fuck you couldn't fucking help clenching your cunt and exhaling right next to his year—

In a second, Homelander had you on the roof of your building.

You didn't want to look up, fearing what he'd throw at you, anger and indifference or lust and temptation. Both shook you to your core.

“Wakie, wakie,” he said, breathless, a certain roughness to his tone. His hands squeezed your back with surprising care. Each second was too long, and yet not enough.

And then you felt it, as you started to disentangle yourself from his body, his cock, hard and throbbing, poking your stomach, dangerously close to where you ached for it the most.

You looked up.

There was no smirk, no mocking eyes—only a stare so intense your heart skipped a beat.

“Thank you, Homelander, for the—for the ride. I appreciate it, despite you almost giving me a heart attack at first.” You giggled, trying to dispel the mood.

“How about you thank me by inviting me in? Y’know what they say, actions speak louder than words.”

“No, I…” you hesitated, trying to think of an excuse but your mind went blank. “No.”

Homelander cocked his head, dazzling smile turning a little unnerving. “No? Is that right?”

“How about another day? I can—”

“I didn't fucking ask for a bullshit, out-of-pity mock invite, did I? What is it, hiding some terrorists in your shithole apartment? Or mommy’s dead body?”

If it weren't for his looming over you, you'd crack a laugh—his mind certainly went places.

“Listen—” You started again, only to be pushed until your back hit the roof's door, knocking the air out of you.

“You listen,” he ground out, eyes a kaleidoscope of red and blue. It was painfully exhilarating. “Don’t try lying to me. I can sense you, I can fucking smell you, your pussy is soaked.” To prove his point, he removed one glove and opened up your pants; your panties were shoved aside as he squeezed two fingers inside you. You whimpered at the burn of his intrusion, but you were so wet the squelch was loud even to your ears. “You either invite me in or I'll rip your clothes off and fuck you right here. Your choice, sweetheart.”

Homelander was being nice in giving you a choice, despite the fact you were a rude tease, and a liar to boot. His fingers kept pumping in and out of you, and he found it so fucking hard not to go all the way, not to have you against this door while you moaned so, so sweetly.

He needed you—to feel you clenching on his cock as you did now on his fingers. And you wanted him. Fuck, you were whining and opening your legs so he could finger you better, clinging onto his waist as your head rested on his shoulder. Still, you dazedly shook your head. What was the matter with you?

“Oh, please, please,” you half begged, half moaned, raspy voice driving him crazy. “We can't, I can't…”

“Give me one good fucking reason why not, huh. One.”

Instead of answering, you kissed him. He seemed surprised at first, but reciprocated in an instant. And it was all you expected it'd be, messy and passionate and hot; he consumed you, drinking in every part of you, all you had to give, and what you wouldn’t give, he would take.

You gathered his face in your hands, wanting a little bit of tenderness in the violent chaos of you, a little bit of love—if you could.

His hand kept working on you, thumb rubbing your clit in circles and, before you ran completely out of breath, you came so hard your legs gave out.

Perfect for Homelander to catch, hold you onto his body as you rode the waves of your pleasure—so beautiful he was enraptured.

After a few moments, you whispered. “I can't let you in. If I do, I won't think straight, I'll just let you do anything you want to me.”

“Is that a bad thing, sweetheart?”

“I'm… not used to this, I don't… I haven't done much of this. You never even asked me out!” You laughed. The good humor vanished as you continued. “I can't lose this job. I need it, I like it. If we do… What will even happen to me?” You cursed your own inability to talk about this, all your eloquence going to the drain when you needed to speak of something other than History. In those moments, you always felt like mimicking some speech taught to you long ago, as if talking about your own feelings was an unattainable device.

Yet Homelander found it amusing. Apparently he'd gotten you all wrong, or at least parts of it. For all your bravado in speaking to him, in challenging him—in your fearlessness and spunk—you were inexperienced. Innocent. Shy. Wasn't that his fucking lucky day.

“So the baby wants me to take her on a date first, that it?”

“I didn't say that.” You raised a brow, crossing your arms. “And don’t call me baby.”

“Also I boy-scout promise not to fire you if you are a bad lay, but I doubt that, baby.”

“Oh, shut up,” you said, though there was no bite to it, only a timid smile on your face. “Okay, alright. This weekend?”

“Friday. I’ll send someone to pick you up. Wear something nice for me.”

Before leaving, he kissed you deeply, hands nearly shaking with yearning. He wanted to take it all back and drag you to his bed, absconding with you for a day or two. But he’d waited this long and he could wait a bit longer—he’d savor every second and make it worth it.

As you walked down the stairs to your apartment you sighed, drunk in the haze of disbelief; there was no way you could run now. It’s clear you have a problem. What you should wish for isn’t what you want.

#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #homelander x teacher #homelander smut #the boys #the boys amazon #requests #my writing #plasticfangtastic #sorry for taking so long with this im the worst #but i hope you enjoy it!#i reckon there'll be one or two more chapters at most #the boys x you

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fantasyescapes17 · 16 days

Text

Spinsters do not Need Chaperones (Part 2, Seungcheol Route)

Chaperones are for beautiful young girls. A plain older woman like you, with neither fortune nor youth to recommend her, is hardly in danger of losing her virtue. You've long resigned yourself to always being the supporting role in someone else’s romance.

But could it be that love and marriage have not disappeared entirely beyond your reach? This spinster may capture the heart of an eligible bachelor yet, if only she makes the right choices…

Genre: Seungcheol x female! reader, regency!AU (Sort of Bridgerton-esque but we keep it PG)

Word Count: 4.5k+

Series Masterlist here

You discovered, much to your dismay, that none of your wants or desires could withstand Lady Beaumont’s wild force of personality and will.

It is unnecessary to repeat the exact conversations that took place in the Beaumont manor that afternoon. It is only relevant to note that by the next morning, your belongings had been packed and you found yourself in a carriage with Lady Beaumont and Julia, headed directly for Portsmouth.

“We must see if we cannot find you a husband in Portsmouth as well,” your aunt commented as the carriage rattled farther and farther away from London. “Surely the place has some naval officers milling about. Once Julia’s engagement is secured, there may be someone the Chois can introduce you to- perhaps some widower that will have you.”

You bit your lip to prevent yourself from responding rudely. It was never worth the effort of an argument with your aunt. You simply nodded.

“You're not sulking because I would not permit you to stay in London, are you?” Lady Beaumont snapped irritably.

You sighed and shook your head. “I am not sulking, aunt.”

“You would do well to put the Kims behind you. It was kind of them to allow you to debut and attend the social season with their daughter, but you are a Beaumont, not a Kim. You don't have a dowry worth mentioning, and the advantages of age and beauty are long past you. You need to be practical and think about who will support you for the rest of your life.”

“Believe me, aunt, I think of little else.”

Your aunt turned away with a huff. Julia had been quiet for most of the ride and seemed to be deep in thoughts of her own. You gave your young cousin a reassuring smile and she smiled back at you, but said nothing.

The journey was long enough that dusk had begun to fall by the time the carriage arrived at the streets of Portsmouth. The Choi estate loomed ahead in the distance, and you peeked curiously out of the carriage window at the large manor. It wasn’t quite as magnificent as the Beaumont estate, but it was certainly a fitting home for a noble family. The sea was very close by. Surely the view of the vast blue waters from the upper stories of the manor would be marvelous.

“It’s not as grand as London but this town really is quite beautiful,” you said to Julia as you both descended the carriage. “Perhaps we shall have a nice time in Portsmouth.”

Julia bit her lip. “I hope so, cousin.”

The servants arrived to carry your luggage inside and a few moments later you were greeted by the arrival of Mr. Choi Seungcheol and his mother, Mrs. Choi.

“How delightful to see you again, Lady Beaumont, girls,” Mrs. Choi greeted you all warmly. You were surprised when the older woman embraced you and Julia. “I do hope you had a safe journey. Please come in, out of the cold! Summer is past and the evenings are quite chilly these days.”

“Yes-yes, our journey was quite pleasant, thank you,” Lady Beaumont replied quickly as she wrapped her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. “Portsmouth seems very lovely.”

“We hope that you will like it.”

Seungcheol stood a few steps behind his mother. He nodded at you politely when you made eye contact with him, but there was not much of a smile on his face. You returned a polite nod. For Julia’s sake, you sincerely hoped that Mr. Choi was a good man. It was hard to tell what he was thinking behind those dark, charismatic eyes and that unsmiling face.

“This is my housekeeper, Mrs. Williams- she has prepared rooms for you all upstairs and I hope you will find them comfortable,” Mrs. Choi explained. “Mrs. Williams, will you please show our guests to their rooms?”

You followed the housekeeper upstairs, admiring the large and tastefully decorated manor. Lady Beaumont had been provided with her own room, while you and Julia had been given a slightly larger room to share. As soon as Mrs. Williams deposited your belongings and left, you went to the large french window in your room and threw it open.

“We have a lovely view of the garden,” you observed. “But it appears this side of the manor does not face the sea.”

“A very good thing too,” Lady Beaumont muttered. She still had her shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders and looked quite pale. “I cannot imagine how cold the sea winds would be at night. Close that window immediately, there is a terrible draught.”

You sighed and shut the window. “Shall we dress for dinner?”

You all dressed and went downstairs for dinner with the Choi family. Seungcheol sat at the head of the large table, and his dark eyes were watchful as Lady Beaumont and Mrs. Choi had an animated conversation about the china, and the difficulties of finding a good cook. You noticed that Seungcheol kept looking between you and Julia repeatedly. Once the first course was completed, he finally addressed your cousin directly.

“How do you like to spend your free time, Miss Julia?” Seungcheol asked your young cousin. His tone was gentle enough but his dark eyes were unsmiling and Julia still looked somewhat afraid of him.

“I-I like music,” Julia whispered.

“I must apologise, Miss Julia, I could not quite hear your response,” Seungcheol admitted.

“I like music,” your cousin repeated a little more loudly. “T-the pianoforte.”

Seungcheol nodded. “Of course. Yes, of course, I had the pleasure of listening to you play back in London. Allow me to compliment you once again on your skills. You played wonderfully.”

Julia blushed and stared at her plate. “Thank you.”

Their conversation was painfully awkward and almost difficult for you to watch. You did not want to interfere but Julia was being incredibly shy and you could see that even Seungcheol was not quite sure how to engage her in conversation. It was your duty as a chaperone to fill in this awkwardness. You cleared your throat and turned to him with a smile.

“Mr. Choi- perhaps you can recommend things for us to do, or places to see while we are in Portsmouth?” you asked lightly.

Mr. Choi seemed almost relieved at your interruption and he turned in his seat to face you. “Of course, Miss Beaumont. I would be delighted to take you all down to the beach tomorrow morning. Portsmouth has many wonderful beaches. I am pleased to say it is one of the few advantages we have over London and the rest of the general countryside.”

You turned to Julia. “Julia! Doesn't the beach sound lovely?”

Julia nodded quickly. “Yes-yes, it does.”

You turned back to Seungcheol. “And the harbour; shall we be able to visit the harbour as well?”

Seungcheol blinked at you in surprise. “Well, certainly, if you like… although the harbour is full of ships and goods and commercial offices. I did not think it would be of particular interest to young ladies.”

Your eyes widened eagerly. “We should love to visit the harbour. Julia and I have just finished reading Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Seas. We have oceans and submarines and sea monsters on our mind, don’t we, Julia? We would love to see the naval ports and even your ships, Mr. Choi, if it is not too much trouble to you.”

Seungcheol nodded. “No trouble at all. I shall be delighted to show them to you.”

Mr. Vernon, who had been almost entirely silent until then (you had a strange suspicion that he was hiding a book underneath the table and was reading instead of paying attention to the conversation) looked up and smiled at you. “My brother spends too much time at the harbour already, Miss Beaumont. I am afraid the trouble lies more in bringing him back home.”

Seungcheol looked at his brother with a raised eyebrow- he did not smile but there was a surprising light-heartedness to his tone. “Then perhaps you had better join us, Vernon, so that you may undertake this incredibly difficult task of bringing me back home and not leave it to the ladies.”

“I wish I could, brother, but my exams are coming soon and I must devote myself to studying,” Vernon replied apologetically.

“Is that why you have hidden a book under the table?” you asked him with a playful smile.

Vernon’s ears turned red. “There is no book-”

Seungcheol sighed, although he did not look too angry. “Vernon, surely you can put your studies away for some time while we have guests?”

“Sorry,” Vernon mumbled as he turned his attention back to his dinner. You smiled- and were surprised when Seungcheol caught your eye and gave you a small, almost imperceptible smile of his own. The smile brought a sudden light to Seungcheol’s already handsome face and you were surprised by how charming he looked. But before you could react, Seungcheol had turned to Julia and asked her a question about whether she enjoyed French literature.

The dinner ended pleasantly and Mrs. Choi entreated Julia to play a little music for them in the drawing room before the family retired to bed. You sat down on the comfortable sofa to listen to her performance and were surprised when Seungcheol sat beside you.

“Miss Beaumont,” Seungcheol said to you in a quiet tone that could not be picked up by his mother or your aunt seated near the fireplace. “I must thank you for your thoughtfulness during the conversation at dinner. I hope that Miss Julia’s quietness is simply her nature, and not caused by any behaviour on my part…”

Your eyes widened. “Oh! No, you must forgive Julia’s quietness. She is only a little shy since she has not spent much time in society or among gentlemen. I assure you, she will open up soon and has a very lovely personality.”

Seungcheol nodded and cleared his throat. “I am… glad to hear it. I suffer from a similar handicap. I have lived in Portsmouth too long and failed to cultivate the art of polite conversation that I would have developed if I had spent more time among young ladies in London society.”

You smiled at him warmly. “There is nothing lacking in your conversation, Mr. Choi. You must only forgive Julia for being too young and inexperienced.”

“Youth is hardly a fault,” he replied thoughtfully. “And inexperience- well, that can surely be remedied with time and effort.”

“I agree.”

“Then I shall only thank you,” he replied gently, “and wish you a good night, Miss Beaumont.”

“Good night, Mr. Choi.”

—-------------------------------------------------------

Lady Beaumont declared that she had developed the chills and that nothing should distress her more than being exposed to the harsh autumn weather on a cold morning. She had therefore resolved to stay indoors all day. You were at liberty to depart for the Portsmouth harbour after breakfast, entirely unburdened by your aunt’s company.

“I hope Lady Beaumont is not unwell,” Seungcheol enquired politely as he helped you and Julia board the carriage. “She does seem rather troubled by the cold.”

You chuckled. “You may rest assured that my aunt is in perfect health, Mr. Choi. Her chills have everything to do with her hatred of long walks, and nothing to do with the weather or her health.”

Seungcheol smiled. “I am relieved to hear it.”

The harbour was a short distance away. You were pleasantly surprised by how dazzlingly beautiful the blue sea was, even among the hustle and bustle of the busy harbour. Mr. Choi had been telling the truth. The harbour was a place of business, not exactly a tourist destination, but you still found yourself excited by the sight of the enormous ships anchored in the distance.

“It smells of fish,” Julia mumbled to you.

Seungcheol had overheard her. He merely nodded as he helped Julia down from the carriage. “Yes, I’m afraid it is rather early and the fishermen will be loading the boats with their catches to transport to nearby towns. Here; please use my handkerchief to cover your nose if it is too unpleasant.”

Julia blushed but accepted his handkerchief gratefully.

“Are any of these ships yours, Mr. Choi?” you asked, interested.

Mr. Choi nodded. “Some of the ships undergoing repairs are at the docks, and I will be glad to show them to you. I am afraid that my best ones are all away at sea, bringing goods back from the colonies.”

“What sort of goods?” you wondered.

Mr. Choi smiled. His eyes lit up and you could tell that he enjoyed talking about his ships and business. There was a tinge of pride in his voice as he explained it to you. “Everything the merchants in the colonies hire us to transport. Cotton, tea, silks, even precious metals and antiques. Well, almost everything.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Almost everything? May I ask why you qualify it so”

Seungcheol coughed and lowered his gaze slightly. “I’m afraid the merchants sometimes wish to transport people instead of goods, and naturally I do not offer my ships for that sort of trade.”

Your eyes widened in understanding. The slave trade. Julia noticed the expression on your face and looked between you and Seungcheol, confused.

“I do not understand. Why should you refuse to transport people?” Julia asked innocently.

“Because people are not goods, Julia,” you replied quietly. “Let us leave it at that for now.”

“On a more pleasant note,” Seungcheol said brightly, “the Royal Navy also uses this harbour for their ships and there are many senior naval officers here. I see Commodore James approaching us now, if you will allow me to introduce you to him.”

“Of course, we shall be delighted.”

A small group of naval officers in uniform approached you from the harbour. Julia’s grip on your arm tightened, and you saw that she had her eyes on the officers and was deeply blushing. You smiled to yourself- you remembered the days when you had fawned over gentlemen in uniform.

“Mr. Choi!” the senior naval officer at the front of the group greeted. He was an older man with slightly greying hair and a bright smile. “How wonderful to see you here- and in the company of two beautiful young women, no less!”

Seungcheol nodded politely. “Commodore James, allow me to introduce you to Miss Beaumont and her cousin, Miss Julia Beaumont. They are my mother’s guests and are staying with us at Portsmouth for the fall.”

You were surprised when Commodore James reached out to kiss first your hand, and then Julia’s. He then introduced you to the rest of the men standing behind him. You tried to concentrate and remember their names and ranks, as Commodore James rattled them off, but you were sure you would forget them soon.

“I hope you have an excellent stay in Portsmouth,” Commodore James said, addressing you and Julia. “May I ask if you ladies are fond of dancing?”

You nodded. “Indeed, we are.”

“Then we shall hope to see you at the assembly rooms one of these evenings, and you must each reserve some of your dances for me and my officers,” Commodore James insisted.

“We would be glad to,” you replied politely.

“Excellent. I am afraid you must excuse us for today- we have an appointment to make. Good day, Miss Beaumont and Miss Julia.”

You and Julia curtsied politely to the officers as they walked away. You could tell that Julia’s attention was almost entirely diverted and she kept glancing back at the retreating officers. You couldn't blame her, really. Some of them were rather handsome. But it wouldn't do for Mr. Choi to notice her distractions, so you hurried to engage him in another conversation.

“Perhaps we might see your offices, Mr. Choi?” you asked quickly.

Seungcheol blinked. “Oh-yes, of course. This way.”

You kept a grip on Julia’s hand and followed Mr. Choi as he led you towards his offices. Mr. Choi ran his shipping business from a large building further down from the harbour and you were unsurprised to find the office full of clerks and accountants, writing letters and poring over ledgers. Some of the clerks bowed their heads towards you politely, clearly surprised to see ladies at the office.

“Well, here we are,” Seungcheol said. “I am afraid the office is a rather uninteresting place.”

“It is fascinating,” you replied honestly. “I am quite curious to know what exactly happens here in this office, Mr. Choi.”

“Correspondence, mostly,” Seungcheol replied with a smile. Despite declaring himself that the office was uninteresting, he clearly did not really think so. “Taking orders, recording consignments, planning routes and schedules, hiring seamen, drafting bills of lading, insurance policies and invoices…”

Julia frowned. “It sounds dreadfully complex just to bring some cargo over on a ship,” she remarked.

Seungcheol nodded. “I'm afraid it can be.”

“It must be a lot for you to manage,” you said.

“Not at all. I enjoy it very much,” Seungcheol replied honestly. “I built this business myself. I do occasionally wish I had help- I asked Vernon to join me in running the business, but he has his own passions to follow and wants to become a barrister. I cannot blame him. The shipping business is not for everyone.”

“It is very admirable,” you told him honestly.

“Thank you, Miss Beaumont.”

Julia glanced around the office, clearly bored. “Might we go to the beach now?”

“Of course… allow me to call for the carriage.”

—-----------------------------------------------

The Portsmouth beach was incredibly beautiful. You felt a sort of resounding peace among the crashing waves and the vast blueness of the ocean and sky. You closed your eyes as a gentle spray of water from the crashing waves fell across your face.

“I see that the beach is to your liking,” Seungcheol commented.

You opened your eyes and reallzed that his dark gaze was fixed on you. You flushed involuntarily- there was something very charismatic about the soft smiles that Seungcheol bestowed rarely and briefly. He was indeed a handsome man and you were, after all, just a woman.

“Yes, I like it very much,” you replied. “The ocean is beautiful. I saw it from the carriage as soon as we arrived yesterday. I had been hoping that we would have a view of it from your manor.”

Seungcheol's eyebrows furrowed. “Do you not have a view of it from your room?”

“Oh- no, our rooms face your lovely garden instead,” you replied lightly. You turned back to look for Julia, who had fallen behind and stopped to fiddle with her shoes. “Julia! Are you all right?” you called out. The crashing waves almost drowned out your voice.

“I am all right, there is just some sand in my shoes!” Julia yelled back.

“Do you need help?”

“No- only wait for me a few moments while I turn them inside out!” Julia called.

You nodded and turned back towards Seungcheol, who was still looking at you. His hands were clasped behind his back and his broad shoulders seemed a little tense. His dark eyes faltered for a moment and then he spoke.

“Miss Beaumont,” he said softly.

You looked up at him. “Yes?”

“I know that our acquaintance is too short for me to speak to you so openly. But my experience of you has been that you are a very thoughtful and mature woman who is capable of understanding the complex nature of life and relationships.”

You stared up at him in surprise, trying not to feel too embarrassed. “Oh- well- I cannot say that this is a compliment I have ever received before, Mr. Choi, but I thank you for it all the same.”

“If I speak to you with a level of honesty that is unusual for our short acquaintance, I hope you will not resent me for it.”

“I should never resent someone for being honest,” you assured him.

“Then I will take this opportunity to speak plainly about the elephant in the room, and most certainly the reason that you and your family find yourselves in Portsmouth. The entailment of the Beaumont estate due to the lack of male heirs in your family.”

You stared at him. You were embarrassed, but gratified that Seungcheol had taken the first step to actually broach the subject that was on everyone’s mind. It was painful to think about the possibility of months of continued tip-toeing around the subject out of a sense of propriety.

“Yes,” you said quietly. “I beg you not to let the entailment trouble you, Mr. Choi. We understand, the law being what it is-”

“But it does trouble me, exceedingly so,” Seungcheol replied firmly. There was a sudden fire in his eyes. “Miss Beaumont, I am a very proud man. Perhaps you have heard of this through rumours but my late father was a gambler. He gambled away my family’s estate until there was almost nothing left by the time he died and I turned of age. I have spent the better part of a decade building my shipping business and restoring my family’s finances and reputation in society.”

You looked up at Seungcheol with wide eyes and nodded. “Indeed, I have heard as much about you, Mr. Choi. You are known for being a self-made man and I have seen here today what you have built. You are well within your rights to be proud of your success.”

Seungcheol took a deep breath. “Thank you. But I want your family to understand that it gave me no pleasure to learn of the entailment. It is not in my nature to rejoice at a handout, especially not when it is being stolen from the family it rightfully belongs to.”

You sighed. “There isn't really any question of rightfulness, here, the law is what it is-”

“Yes,” Seungcheol replied. “If it was within my power to refuse the estate, or to transfer it back to you and your cousin, then I would do so in a heartbeat. But it is not in my power to do so. The terms of the entailment will not permit me to transfer the Beaumont estate to anyone other than my own male heirs.”

“We understand, Mr. Choi,” you assured him quietly.

Seungcheol inhaled sharply. “I have discussed this with my mother, and we have agreed that the only conscionable manner to deal with the Beaumont estate is to offer a union of our families, to ensure that any son I pass the estate to will be of Beaumont lineage.”

You took a deep breath and looked up at him. Seungcheol’s dark eyes were worried; you could see the honesty behind them. This was not a performance or empty words. Seungcheol was genuinely conflicted and distressed by the knowledge that he would be inheriting your family’s fortune and estate. He clearly considered it his duty to do whatever was in his power to ensure it stayed in your family.

“Then I must return the favour and be equally open with you as well, Mr. Choi,” you said honestly. “A union of the families is exactly what my aunt is hoping for. We have come to Portsmouth in the expectation that you will be persuaded to marry Julia, and that the Beaumont estate can remain within our family.”

Seungcheol was silent for a long moment. He looked at you, and then back at Julia. Your young cousin was still balancing carefully on one foot as she struggled to empty beach sand out of her shoes.

“Of course,” Seungcheol said finally. He ran his fingers through his dark hair and left it slightly ruffled. “But Julia is… young.”

“She is of marriageable age,” you replied.

“No doubt,” Seungcheol replied quickly. “Since Lord Beaumont is still in good health, I assume there is no need to act with any haste. I would like to spend more time with Julia and your family. But I hope it will bring Lady Beaumont some relief to learn that I have every intention of uniting our families when the time is right. I trust you will convey this to her in the appropriate manner?”

You bowed your head. “Of course, Mr. Choi.”

“Thank you.”

You opened your mouth to respond but Julia had already come running over to you; her hair was a little dishevelled and she looked annoyed.

“There is no end of sand in my shoes,” she mumbled. “May we return to the manor?”

“Yes, indeed, let us return.”

—------------------------------------------------

You went to your aunt’s bedroom after dinner, to tell her about the events of the day. It would bring her some relief to know for certain that Seungcheol intended to marry Julia, and you did not want to deny her that peace of mind.

“I am not sure what I think of him saying all this to you,” your aunt admitted with a frown, “but I suppose he was sensible enough to know not to say it to Julia.”

“She is too young, and still dreams of love,” you muttered to your aunt. “She would not have enjoyed speaking of her own marriage in such… economical terms.”

Lady Beaumont sighed. “All the same, it is indeed a relief to know that Mr. Choi intends to do the right thing. Our time here is not wasted after all. We shall rest easy after your uncle passes.”

You nodded. “We are lucky, aunt. Mr. Choi is… well, he seems to be a very good man. I find his behaviour quite admirable.”

“Well it's not much use to you,” your aunt snapped. “You must still try to find yourself a husband, although we cannot hope for anyone too rich. Mrs. Choi talks highly of a certain widower called Commodore James. Perhaps you should visit the assembly rooms and try to dance with this man.”

You winced. “Aunt, he must be twenty years my senior.’

“If you wanted a young man then you should have found one while you were young,” Lady Beaumont said dismissively. “Don't come to me now in your late twenties and complain to me about the age of your suitors. It will be a relief if we can find one at all. Now good night.”

“Good night, aunt,” you muttered.

You walked back to the room you shared with Julia, only to find that there were a few maids carrying your luggage out of the room. You stopped in your tracks and called out to one of them.

“Are those my dresses? Where are you taking those?” you asked.

The maid placed your trunk down and bowed. “Apologies, Miss Beaumont, Mr. Choi asked us to have you moved to a different room on the other end of the corridor. He said to put you in one with a better view of the ocean.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“Oh-yes, thank you. That would be lovely,” you muttered.

“I will show you your new room, please follow me.”

---------------------------------------------------

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfiction #seungcheol x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #s.coups x reader #regency!au

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hopelesslyromanticshark · 3 months

Note

Hiiiii, let me just say I love you writing!!!!! <3

Anyway my request is headcanons of Percy with a child of Erebus s/o. Erebus is the primordial god of darkness.

Like as a child of a primordial they’re extremely powerful and have like shadow powers. They also have really good night vision. They’re like super powerful at night because of all the darkness and a possible blessing of their step-mom Nyx.

Anyway have a good day/night :))))

⋆⭒˚.⋆ percy jackson x child of erebus! reader hcs

content: percy jackson x child of erebus! reader hcs warning: none!! author's note: i know the pics are very feminine, but i tried my best to make this gn bc i noticed the 'child' instead of daughter!! i think i did it???? if you guys see any gendered terms, lemme know so i can fix it!! i know this is basically the daughter of nyx one i did but i like nightime escapades okay???? (im actually terrified of the dark and sleep with a nightlight at my grown ass age)

"and what do you think youre doing?" a voice questioned from behind percy, causing him to slip and fall from the brick wall he was just beginning to climb

"ow," he whined, resting a hand against his surely bruised ribs and attempting to look through the darkness at whoever scared him

"sorry! sometimes i forget other people can't see so well in the dark," you laughed lightly, holding your hand out to pull him back to his feet

percy took it, giving you a slightly grateful smile as he was back on his feet

"you must be y/n, then? erebus' kid?" percy questioned, dusking his sweatpants off, suddenly wishing he'd changed into better clothes like he vaguely thought to do

what kind of impression does blue food dye stained sweatpants give???

a bad one, surely.

"yup! the one and only, spooky master of the dark," you mocked all, dramatically, waving your hands around, which percy could just barely make out in the darkness

"great title. i personally go by lord of the seafoam but that's what my enemies call me," percy joked, enjoying your chuckles more than he thought he would

"and what do your friends call you?" you questioned with a tilt of your head.

"oh, also lord of the seafoam. or percy," he winked with a beaming smile that you didn't need night vision to see.

"well, lord of the seafoam, you never answered my question."

"hmm? OH! right, well, you see, my step dad mentioned something about a meteor shower tonight and i was trying to get to bunker nine to sit on the roof to watch it," percy explained with a shrug

"no way! me too! well, i was gonna use the half blood hill, but still!" you replied, bouncing on the balls of your feet in excitement

"actually, could i come with you? you know how leo is, probably still working in there and once he starts yapping, he never stops. i'd probably miss the whole thing," percy lied.

he knew leo was dead asleep and he gave percy a key to bunker nine just so he could watch the meteor shower

but was he really gonna pass up the opportunity to watch it with someone so dashing?? he's stupid, but not that stupid

"yeah, course! c'mon, i got snacks too!" you nodded, instantly, reaching forwards and grasping his wrist and dragging him towards half blood hill

percy was grateful you were leading the way for two reasons: one, he couldn't see for shit in this darkness, and two, it allowed him to hide his blush behind your back.

you'd already set up a place by what used to be thalia's tree, a blanket splayed out and snacks splattered on top

it was a perfect view over camp and of the sky, percy sure it would be difficult to miss the shower now

but, while you guys waited, you and percy couldn't seem to stop talking

the randomest and stupidest stuff

"aliens. yes or no?"

"obvi. hard yes."

"is cereal a soup?"

"technically yes, but i'd like to live in delusion that's it not."

"who do you think-" percy started but got cut off by your hands shooting out and wrapping around his arm

"look, look! it's starting!" you explained, pointing up at some streaking lights through the dark sky

you guys watched in silent awe for a while before percy leaned over to you, which wasn't much of a distance as you still clung to his arm

"why does a shooting star taste better than a comet?" he whispered, his eyes still on the sky

you squinted at him suspiciously but hummed in question

"It's a little meteor."

silence and then the cutest giggles percy's ever heard

"that's so chessy!" you managed to get out between your laughs, basically curled into percy's side

and his smile was beginning to hurt his cheeks

then a comfortable silence settled over the two once more, their eyes drawn back to the fireballs shooting through the sky

well, your eyes were

percy's eyes stayed on you, his blood rushing in his ears and his heart beating like a drum

then you caught him, out of the corner of your eye, biting your lip to keep your smile at bay

you were sure he didn't know you knew, your excellent night vision being the only reason you could see his eyes on you so clearly

then the final meteor flew by and percy started praying for just one more, not wanting the night to end

"this was fun...lord of the seafoam," you mocked, bumping your shoulder with his

percy laughed at the call back, but his heart wasn't in it

he knew this night would end and you guys would just be acquaintances, someone you just wave at as you pass on the way to your cabin, but never another conversation to be had

or that's what percy thought.

"of course, master of the darkness," he tried to joke, trying to hide his disappointment at the ending night, "any time-"

before he could get another mopey word out, you were shooting forwards, a kiss pressed firmly to his cheek

the words died on his tongue

"you know, i think the full moon is tomorrow. do you wanna-"

"yes. totally. let's do it," percy instantly cut in, shaking off your nearly paralyzing touch, the need to see you again enough to break him of any spell or prison.

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #pjo #pjo fandom #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader

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halfvalid · 9 months

Text

kitten

ABOUT

alternate title: the pet name 'kitten' is gross when used by men but it's cute when a woman nami says it

rating: general audiences

characters: live action!nami | fem!reader | live action!roronoa zoro

pairing: live action!nami x fem!reader

word count: 4.4k

description: nami is aware you've got a crush on one of the straw hats, and she's determined to find out who—but she's completely oblivious to the fact that you actually like her.

tags: strawhat!reader, female reader, fluff, kissing, confessions, no use of “y/n”, pet name "kitten", banter, absolutely tooth rotting amounts of fluff, a little bit of (affectionate) zoro slander

author’s note: i interrupt your regularly scheduled zoro fic posts to provide you with a sapphic nami oneshot instead because she is my wife and i love her dearly.

zoro accidentally popped up a bit too much in this because he's always on my mind. my apologies <3

You’d always liked astronomy. The current-world navigation had nothing to do with the stars, really; at least not when it came to the Grand Line. Unnatural magnetic fields and the odd weather was reason enough for that—but celestial navigation wasn’t even often used in any of the four quadrants. Too finicky, people would say; you know the practice had stopped being in use in the Marines years ago.

Nami knew it all, though. She was the only one of the Straw Hats who could read the stars, the sky spreading out as a map that only her eyes could read.

Your interest in it had always been more… artistic. While Nami babbled on about angles and reference points and sextants, you liked to talk about the planets and heavenly bodies blanketing the sky. It was dusk, and the sun was kissing the horizon good night, dull hues of pink and orange spreading alongside the sea with a golden shimmer as it tucked safely away.

You’d been lying out on the main deck for a good few hours, stretched like a cat along a hammock you’d strung up forever ago, when you heard footsteps.

“There you are, kitten,” Nami said with a laugh, and you sat up to appraise her. The evening glow cast fire to her orange hair, a blazing halo surrounding her head and painting her skin over in gold dust. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Hi,” you said with a soft smile. “What for?”

“Well, for one, you missed supper.” Nami gingerly took a seat on the side of your hammock, the canvas cloth rocking from side to side with the motion. “Avoiding your crush again?”

You let out a sigh, half-exasperated as your bottom lip sucked in between your teeth. You nibbled at the flesh there, not responding. Nami had figured out a few weeks ago that you had a crush on one of the other Straw Hats, and she brought it up every so often, although all it did was cause a crease in your brow bone and a flicker of annoyance on your face.

“What, am I not supposed to bring that up?” Nami teased. The light shone in her crystal blue eyes, clear like the sky during midday, not a cloud in sight. “You still haven’t told me who it is.”

“Because you’ll pull something if I do!” you protested. “Don’t try to deny it, you conniving little witch.”

Nami gasped in mock-offense, a hand plastered to her chest. “And destroy your dignity like that? I would never.”

“I don’t trust you,” you answered, and Nami clicked her tongue. “What did Sanji make?”

“Fish. Soup. Rice.”

“You’re so undescriptive,” you said with a wrinkle of your nose. Nami just laughed.

“Not everyone can be as artistic as you, kitten. Come on, everyone left the kitchen already. You don’t have to worry about running into your mystery man.” She winked at the last sentence, and your breath caught. Nami seemed to notice, because she laughed, stepping up from the hammock and grabbing your hand to help you off. “You’re hilarious.”

“I didn’t say anything!” you protested. Nami just gave you a look, and you rolled your eyes, but let her drag you along the ship until you reached the kitchen. “You’re so mean to me,” you said, slumping into the nearest chair available.

“Mhm. Here.” Nami started serving up a plate, loading it full of food before passing it over to you. It was quickly joined by a bowl of soup. “Eat. We’re docking tomorrow, so you should get your energy up. We’re going shopping.”

“Shopping for what?” you asked, bringing the bowl of soup to your lips. Seaweed. “If you say rope and boat parts I’m going to scream.” As much as you liked the pirate life, there was only so much of the technicalities you could take. You weren’t very much a practical soul, lumped in very much with Luffy when it came to your general attitude of your job description. Pirating consisted of adventure and art, in your opinion.

“Rope and boat parts,” Nami said with a straight face. She’d always been the exact opposite, all focused on maps and making sure everything was running smoothly. “Well, only partly. I’ve been sent to go clothes shopping too. And to pick up a few other supplies.” Her eyes sparkled. “You’re coming with me, right? Well, unless you want to join your…”

“Shut up,” you said, making a face at her as you set your bowl down. Nami just laughed.

“Just putting it out there, kitten. I’m sure you might be more interested in going with Usopp to talk to the stevedores. Or Zoro to the local tavern. Or Sanji for the—”

“Nope, nope, and nope. I’m going with you,” you said firmly. There was a whisper of a smile at your lips, but Nami didn’t seem to notice it. “And I still don’t get why I’m a kitten.”

“Because,” Nami answered, propping her elbows on the table as she gazed over at you. “I’m the cat burglar. You’re the kitten.”

“Why isn’t Luffy the kitten?”

“Luffy’s the captain, and I don’t like him as much.” Nami straightened, starting to clean up around the kitchen and load the abandoned dishes from when everyone else had eaten into the sink. You smiled at that. “You don’t like him, do you? I feel like you could do so much better.”

“My lips are sealed,” you answered. Nami gave you a sidelong look.

“That better not be a yes.”

You just shrugged, raising the bowl of soup again and finishing the rest of it before turning to the rice and fish. “Let’s not talk about it. What about you? Any romantic prospects—”

Nami turned so abruptly you almost choked while eating. “I just barely started learning how to make friends. Maybe we wait a few months before we get to that,” she said. You coughed, palm pressed to your lips as you cleared out your airways.

“Okay. Aggressive.”

Nami scowled. “That was not aggressive.”

You pulled a face. “Kinda sounds like you have something to hide, Nami,” you teased, and although you didn’t actually expect her to react, she did. To your surprise, Nami turned away again, the very edges of her face pinkening. You stared at her, heartbeat slowing to a steady thud in your chest. There was a faint taste of panic at the back of your throat, slightly sour and acidic like blood or rust. “Um, what was that?”

“What was what?” Nami asked evenly. Too evenly. You gaped at her back, organs wobbling precariously inside of your chest.

“That—thing.”

“Kitten, if you want me to understand what you’re talking about, you’re going to have to be a little clearer than that,” Nami said smoothly. “Now it’s getting dark. You should get to bed. Last chance to shove yourself with your crewmate of choice.”

“I’m still going with you,” you said stubbornly, shoveling the last of your rice in your mouth before slipping off your chair. You moved around the table, setting your bowl and chopsticks into the sink. “You want me to do them?” you asked, nodding at the dirty dishes that’d piled up. Nami shook her head.

“Go sleep,” she said gently. “I’ll get you in the morning.”

You watched her for a moment, lips twisting before you finally relented. “Night, Nami,” you said, and she turned away. You were safe there for a moment, admiring how the soft backlit glow from the windows etched shadows along her face. She really was beautiful, and your heart thudded fast in your chest.

Nami was the strongest person you knew. The smartest person you knew. The Straw Hats wouldn’t be the same without her, and sometimes you found it funny how she seemed so convinced you had a crush on one of the other members of the crew when it was so obvious that she was your north star.

Ah, well. She’d just have to keep on guessing.

Nami woke you at the crack of dawn, where the hazy rays of the sun just started rising up from the sea shore. You’d traveled to shore while asleep, and everyone was already up and running.

“Luffy left already,” Nami was saying, tying a bandana around her head as you gathered up the rest of the supplies you needed. “And we’ll probably spend the whole day out, so we can get lunch in the village.” She eyed you. “I packed breakfast. Come on.”

You followed her off the ship, savoring the early morning wind along the harbor. The dock men were all already hard at work, milling around the dozens of boats with tools and equipment propped on their shoulders. “Where to first?” you asked.

“Boat parts,” she said, casting you a sympathetic smile. “Some rope, extra sails, some other stuff. After that I’m thinking groceries—I put Sanji in charge of bulk stock this time, so just stuff like soap and necessities—and then clothes.” She grinned. “And some fun stuff.”

“Sounds good to me,” you said. Nami did most of the talking, but you were content to watch her barter, leaning back on your heels as she argued with sellers and eventually left with a satisfied smirk on your face. She hired some of the dock men to carry the ropes and items to the Going Merry, looking her arm in yours and going off to your next stop.

“You know, you’re basically stealing from them like this,” you told her, a smile evident in your voice. “Forty-five thousand berry to thirty thousand. That’s actually terrifying.”

“I said take it or leave it and he took it.” Nami shrugged, but you could see a beam of pride shine through her face. “But enough of that. The market’s up ahead.”

The entire village seemed to have been brought out, because true to Nami’s words, there was a fair going on. Stalls boasting all kinds of wares lined the streets, and you peeked through all of them, even at Nami’s urges to hurry up and focus only on your shopping list. She watched you with a soft smile on her lips, the expressions interlaced with ones of exasperation.

“I should’ve just picked a random man and carted you off with him,” she said with a click of her tongue as you spent far too much time glancing through a stand of knick-knacks and jewelry. “Currently either Zoro or Sanji are my top contenders.”

You barely suppressed a snort, fingers carefully combing through a bowl of baubles. There were various items inside, from earrings missing a sister to pins and little statuettes. “How come?”

“Usopp has Kaya, so I would hope you don’t like him,” Nami said. You raised an eyebrow, glancing up to meet her gaze.

“Kaya’s all the way back in Syrup Village, Nami. She can’t do anything, and who knows when we’ll return there?”

Nami gave you a horrified look. “Kitten, that’s a terrible thing to say.”

You just laughed, dropping your gaze again and picking at the bowl. There was a dull gleam of something at the bottom; it wasn’t gold or brass like anything else there, and was instead a shining, milky white. You dug through the pile, trying to get to it. “You’re such a romantic.”

“Does that mean it is Usopp?”

“I do not confirm nor deny a thing,” you said, finally plucking out what had captured your attention. It was a necklace, the pendant a glittering star on a gold chain. “And I want reasoning.”

“You’re not buying that,” Nami said, gaze flickering down to it before meeting your eyes again. “Zoro because he’s conventionally attractive and Sanji because he can cook.”

You scoffed, studying the necklace. “Those are terrible reasons.”

“I can’t think of any good ones,” Nami protested. “The only thing I can think of are reasons you wouldn’t like any of them. Because they’re all kind of losers and you could do much, much better.” She tilted her head imperceptibly upwards, and you saw a little glimmer in her eye, a reaction that bore uncanny similarity to the one she’d worn the day before. You swallowed, throat suddenly dry.

“You think Zoro’s conventionally attractive?” You turned towards the stand seller, motioning at the necklace. “How much?”

“You’re not buying that,” Nami repeated, shooting you a look. “It’s a waste of perfectly good berry.”

“It’s five hundred at most,” you scoffed, fishing a wad of bills out from your pocket. Nami sighed, but she didn’t argue. “Barely anything. Do you think Zoro’s conventionally attractive?”

Nami looked distracted. “Hm?”

“You said Zoro was conventionally attractive,” you repeated, voice firmer this time. You tried to suppress the little tremble in your cadence as you passed the money to the seller. He counted it and gave you a firm nod. Carefully, you dropped the necklace in your pocket. “Do you think he is?”

“Well—from an objective standpoint—”

You pushed past the swarm of patrons milling around the stands, Nami having to quicken her pace to keep up with you. “Attraction isn’t objective.”

“Kitten.” Nami grabbed your wrist, forcing you to slow down, and you flinched. She tugged you in the direction of another stand, probably something off her list. “Why do you care so much? Am I right? Is he the one you like?”

You wiggled your wrist out of Nami’s grip. “I don’t care, I’m just curious. Because you’ve been blushing for the past half hour and you mentioned Zoro was conventionally attractive. And if you say he’s conventionally attractive that means you think he’s conventionally attractive. So assumedly you are blushing because of—”

It clearly took Nami a moment to unscramble your honestly entirely nonsensical words. “Kitten, I’m trying to figure out whether or not you have a crush on Zoro. You’re not supposed to be trying to figure out if I do. And I have not been blushing.”

You relented, but still couldn’t suppress the pout that threatened your mouth. Your teeth pressed against the flesh of your lower lip, running alongside the skin but not fully biting. “You said Zoro was conven—”

“If I have to hear you say the words conventionally attractive one more time, I swear I will lock you in the hold,” Nami said sharply, and you had to choke back your laugh. “And the reason I said that is because every single time we go out, at least five people turn to stare at his stupid face. Do you not remember that time on Mirror Ball Island? We practically had to fight women off of him.”

“Okay, fine,” you said, a glimpse at her features seemed to support her words. She was as guarded as ever, and clearly irritated, though her vexation didn’t seem as bad as the annoyances she’d hold over the rest of the crew. They never did, really; Luffy always liked to say that you were Nami’s favorite. “I’m hungry. Can we eat?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I neither confirm nor deny anything,” you repeated for what seemed like the thousandth time in the past week. “Restaurant. Please.”

Nami didn’t look away from you, but relented, and the two of you went to the nearest restaurant to have lunch. You were mainly silent during the meal, replaying the conversation from before over and over again in your head. There was a buzz of uncertainty in the pit of your stomach, one that you entirely disliked.

Before you’d been fine with keeping quiet about your crush—you never felt too threatened or upset, under the impression that your feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated and that Nami wouldn’t fall for anyone in the near future anyway. And you didn’t mind her guessing between your four male comrades to find the one who’d stolen your heart.

But the reactions and the blushes were a development. And you were starting to think that Nami herself had a mystery beau.

Nami talked about work during the meal, going down her grocery list and checking off the things she’d gotten. You watched her as she glared down at her notebook, pencil caught between two fingers as she scribbled down notes to herself. “You’re not eating,” you said gently.

“Sorry. Distracted,” Nami answered. She shot you a smile, but it quickly fell as she turned back to her notebook. “What about Sanji?”

You suppressed a sigh. “Are you still on about this?”

“Yes,” Nami insisted. She finally shut her notebook, slipping it into the bag hanging off her waist and picking up her chopsticks to return to her soup noodles. “You’d never go hungry with him around, at least.”

“I think you need to raise your standards. I already don’t go hungry with him around, I don’t need to date him for that.”

Nami clicked her tongue, but it was good-natured. “You’re making this so hard for me.”

“I don’t want to talk about myself anymore,” you insisted, setting down your chopsticks. You’d basically finished your bowl already; there were only the final remnants of broth and rice noodles at the bottom, the soup seasoning darker in color; more pungent.

You fiddled with your hands, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach that persisted even as you thought back to what Nami had said about Zoro. Her reasoning had been sound enough, but you still felt vaguely sick, that bitter taste of sour iron at the back of your throat again.

“Are you okay?” Nami’s eyes met yours, and you flinched away. “You’re acting weird.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered. “I think I’m going to head back to the ship and take a nap. I’m kind of tired.” Before Nami could say anything, you got up, chair scraping along the restaurant floor. “See you later?”

“What? Kitten, wait—” Nami called, but you just swallowed, glancing over your shoulder to shoot her an apologetic look.

The Going Merry was a breath of fresh air as you stepped foot back onto her deck. There were some dockmen milling about, setting material along the deck as Usopp directed them as to where everything went.

You brushed past them to veer towards your hammock, slipping onto it and kicking your legs up along the cloth without pause. Your eyes closed, and you let the sun melt down on your face, the tension in your chest easing as you embraced the beam of the sky.

You stayed there for a while, knowing you were safe as Nami wouldn’t come find you until she’d finished with all her actual tasks. Although this was occasionally irritating if you were in real desire for attention, you appreciated the responsible side of her now. You didn’t have to confront her for a few hours yet, so you spent the time on your hammock, watching the clouds drifting in the sky and picking out the dull stars that shimmered as the sky got darker.

It was just before suppertime when you remembered the necklace you’d bought. Stars were just beginning to materialize, dark blues and purples replacing the cerulean hues that previously blanketed the Earth. You fished the star necklace out of your pocket, peering at the pendant again. It was made of some sort of shimmering stone you didn’t recognize—perhaps opal—that made it glow like an actual star, iridescent when light hit it.

“Hey, kitten.”

You looked up, watching as Nami made her way across the ship deck to where you lay. She looked tired, but still bore a soft smile on her face as she met your gaze. “Hi,” you said, tucking the necklace back into your pocket. Behind her you could see the last of the hired work carrying barrels down to the hold. “Get everything done?”

“Mhm,” Nami said. “Wanna talk about earlier?”

“Not really,” you muttered, the sharp tang of rust dancing at the back of your tongue again. “Sorry about storming out. I felt unwell.”

Nami studied you carefully, arms folding unconsciously over her chest. “I can stop bothering you about your crush, if you want,” she said finally, a gust of a sigh leaving her lips. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s okay,” you said, getting up and climbing your legs over the edge so you were sitting on the hammock. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Nami, I swear.”

“You walked out in the middle of a meal, kitten,” Nami said, and you could hear her voice starting to get upset, even as she tried to level her tone. “Clearly I did. Was it because I kept trying to figure it out? Was I right with Zoro? What—”

“It’s not because of that,” you interrupted, trying to keep your voice gentle even as your chest squeezed inward. You were powerless to your muscles; to your heart as it did a pathetic little thump-thump thing inside of you.

“Then why?” Nami leaned forward on her heels, and the setting sun caught her eyes, kaleidoscope blue glittering a thousand different shades like the opal of your necklace. “Just tell me, kitten. So I won’t do it again.”

“It was because of you,” you mumbled, shying away from her gaze. Nami sighed.

“Yes, we established that I did something to upset you already. I’m trying to find out what—”

“You called Zoro attractive and I was jealous,” you blurted, before you could even think to stop the words from falling out of your mouth. Nami froze, and you lifted your eyes up hesitantly to see her reaction.

Her shoulders were all tense, face guarded, eyes blank from their usual expression. “Oh,” she said evenly. There was an ugly purse tightening at her lips, and she fought to keep them in an even line. “So it is Zoro, then. Thank you for telling me.”

She turned away then, her movements abrupt as she started walking. A pulse of panic captured your heart, and you called desperately out to her, volume far too loud in the late hour. You didn’t find yourself caring. “I wasn’t jealous of you!” you cried, and Nami’s entire body went still.

She turned back towards you, so slowly that you found yourself capturing your breath in your throat waiting for her.

“I wasn’t jealous of you,” you repeated once her eyes met yours. “I was jealous of Zoro. Of you thinking he was attractive.” Your fingers fumbled together, trying to find something to occupy themselves with as you choked out the final sentence. “My mystery man is you, Nami. I like you.”

It took a long while for Nami to respond, and the Going Merry rocked as you waited, a soft sway of delay and building panic. There was a shimmer of something in Nami’s eyes, and her lips tugged downwards.

Her voice was hollow when she spoke. “What?”

“I don’t like Zoro or Usopp or Sanji or Luffy, Nami,” you said, hands tightening around each other with every word spilt out from between your lips. “I like you. I like you when you call me kitten. I like you when you complain about me buying things but let me do it anyway. I like you even when you’re teasing me about my crush.” Your voice dropped to a low mumble. “And I was jealous because you thought Zoro was attractive.”

“Oh, kitten,” Nami said, and you glanced up to see her right in front of you, bent over to meet your level sitting down. She reached for your hands, and you let her take them, exhaling as her tender grasp clasped around your palms.

“Nami,” you whispered, horrified to hear how wet your voice sounded. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Nami, you may be the ship’s navigator, but you’re my north star. I like you.”

Kitten, I do not think Zoro is attractive,” Nami said, and you had to choke back startled laughter at that being what she was focusing on. “That is the least of your worries.”

“But—you seemed so annoyed when you thought it was Zoro—don’t you like—”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” Nami said, a soft laugh leaving her lips. They were trembling. Her entire body was trembling, even her hands as she cocooned yours in them. “I was annoyed because I thought you liked Zoro. Because—I like you too.”

You swallowed, surprise forcing your jaw to fall slack as you met her gaze. “Really?” you whispered. Nami nodded; she coaxed soft circles into the skin of your hands, a supportive smile edging up her lips.

“I really thought you liked someone else, kitten, I would’ve said something before if—” Nami let out another gentle laugh. “If I knew. It wasn’t until you told me about the crush did I realize. I got a little… too overprotective, and then… well, it wasn’t very platonic at that point.” She ducked her head, hiding her smile, but you slipped one of your hands out of her grasp to push it back up. “God, you’re too good for any of them.”

“I don’t want to talk about how the rest of them suck,” you murmured. “I want to talk about how amazing you are. Oh—and—” You dug your hand in your pocket, pulling out the necklace. “This reminded me of you. I got it for you.”

“Kitten,” Nami breathed, as you unclasped the necklace and carefully put it on her. It swung around her neck before you adjusted it, golden yellow bright against the white of her pale skin. The opal glittered, catching the moonlight that’d steadily glowed brighter from behind you. “Thank you. It’s still a waste of money though.”

“Not for you,” you said, grabbing her hands to squeeze her fingers. “Never for you.” You took in a nervous breath, your chest tightening inside—but it wasn’t all bitter and sour, nothing like the taste of panic.

Nami met you in the middle when you finally leaned up to kiss her, your hand slipping up the side of her face, fingers curling in her orange hair. She smiled when she kissed, soft and carefree for once, that serious facade she always took on melting away in the moment. She kissed softly; tenderly; like the moon shining gentle waves on the East Blue below or the sun in the hazy morning sky casting light across the world.

There were footsteps approaching from behind Nami. You opened your eyes, tilting your gaze up to see Zoro staring down at you both. Nami broke apart from you, glancing over her shoulder. None of you said anything.

“Okay,” Zoro decided, and then walked off. You barely managed to stifle your giggles until he was out of earshot.

“God, he’s such a loser,” Nami said, and then kissed you again.

#opla nami #one piece live action #one piece netflix #opla #cat burglar nami x reader #opla nami x reader #reader insert #x reader #nami x reader #nami x you #opla fanfiction #opla fanfic #one piece live action x you #one piece live action x reader #kiki writes!

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